The Lessons We Teach Our Self
by Mrs.InsaneOne
Summary: On the evening of his 28th birthday, Harry embarks upon a journey that will lead him into the depths of despair as he struggles to hold onto his identity while living the life of another. AU Book 6/7, HP/GW. COMPLETE.
1. Prologue Part 1 – Embracing Destiny

**DISCLAIMER:** _All HP characters are the property of JKR, the WB, and respective publishing companies - this is nothing more than a simple FanFiction that I have written. I have made no money from this or any of the other stories I have posted on this or other sites._

**Full Summary: **_It has been eight years since the final confrontation between Harry and Voldemort and Harry survives his day to day life by burying himself in his work as an Auror for the Ministry under Scrimgeour. Each night he returns to the place he calls home – a small cottage in Godric's Hollow next to the empty lot where his parent's house once stood. On the evening of his 28__th__ birthday, Harry will embark upon a journey that will lead him into the very depths of despair as he struggles to hold onto his identity while living the life of another._

**AN:** _Before you begin reading the story, I wanted to take a moment to point out a few things. First, this fan fiction was written for the National Novel Writing Month competition of 2006 and was never beta'd. _

_Secondly, I'd like to make mention that this story will be slightly AU, though for the most part it does follow the major events of book six. In my version of year six, Snape did not teach DADA classes and Slughorn has not returned to teach potions. The rest of Harry's sixth year will remain pretty true to the events of HBP, though they will be viewed from a slightly different prospective in my story. _

_Thirdly, this story was written prior to the release of Deathly Hallows, and therefore makes no mention of any event(s) that occur during the seventh and final book. So please keep that in mind during the first few chapters._

_That said; I hope you enjoy the story. – Jenn_

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**The Lessons We Teach Our Self**

**Prologue Part 1 – Embracing Destiny**

In the growing darkness a young man, in his mid to late twenties, stepped out of the air as a faint crack reverberated through the night air. His glasses hung askew and his robes looked slightly rumpled – as if his means of travel had been slightly unpleasant. He ran a nervous hand through his unruly black hair as his green eyes surveyed the quiet street in both directions. In the fingers of his right hand he held a thin wooden rod casually, yet confidently, as he took in his surroundings.

When it became apparent that his startling arrival had remained unnoticed, he silently slipped through the shadows towards a lone cottage that sat well back from the main road at the end of the lane. The very air seemed to crackle as he passed through an invisible barrier and if anyone would have been watching, they'd swear he'd disappeared as suddenly as he'd appeared.

In truth, he'd only passed through the protective wards that surrounded the neat little cottage and the empty lot that stood beside it. A soft sigh passed through his lips as he looked over his shoulder and gave the street behind him one last searching glance before tucking his wand into his back pocket. Smiling, he trotted briskly up the tidy walkway and jumped onto the porch with practiced ease – Harry Potter was home.

Once inside, Harry pulled off his black robes and slung them carelessly over the back of a nearby chair while dumping several thick files on the table beside it. As he walked further into the house he kicked off his shoes and wearily rubbed the back of his neck, all the while humming softly under his breath.

In the kitchen he took a moment to light several candles with his wand before heading over to the refrigerator to dig out some leftovers for his supper. He was pulled away from the task at hand by a tapping at the window though, and looking up, Harry caught sight of an unfamiliar barn owl hovering impatiently outside.

"Not even home for five minutes and already Scrimgeour wants something else," Harry muttered as he let the refrigerator's door swing shut so he could open the window for the bird. "Wonder what it is this time," he added as he took the letter from the owl.

Without even glancing at the front of the envelope, he ripped open one side and pulled out a thick, old yellowed piece of parchment that reminded him vaguely of the Hogwarts letters he used to receive when he attended the magical institution. As he quickly read through the short note his expression went from annoyance to puzzlement to worry as he looked up and leaned out the still open window to search the immediate vicinity.

Finding nothing, he pulled himself back inside the house and studied the envelope for the first time as he absently closed the window. There was no mistake – the letter was clearly addressed to him

_Harry J. Potter  
July 31, 2008 – 5:03PM  
Godric's Hollow,  
__Outskirts of Perth_

Shaking his head to clear his mind, Harry slowly walked over to the table and sat down gingerly as he read the cryptic note once more.

_You will be receiving a letter in exactly five minutes  
that will require your immediate attention. Please  
follow the instructions to the letter, as your life and  
many others depend upon your cooperation._

_A friend_

"What the...?" Harry uttered as he stared at the puzzling note and tried for yet a third time to figure out what it meant. He didn't even have a clue as to who had sent him the note either, the handwriting was vaguely familiar but he couldn't remember where he'd seen it before. His churning thoughts were cut short by the arrival of a second owl; a quick glance at his watch confirmed that exactly five minutes had passed since he'd received the first one.

This time the letter was delivered by a snowy owl and Harry felt a pang of sadness fill him as he was poignantly reminded of Hedwig, his own owl, who had died tragically five years earlier. Bringing his wayward emotions under control, Harry apprehensively opened the window a second time to allow the white owl entrance into his kitchen.

Harry's lingering grief slowly faded as he noted several differences between his beloved pet and the one that now stood calmly on his table. For one, this owl had fewer black speckles than Hedwig had had and its eyes were also a deeper, darker yellow – almost golden in color. Harry also had the distinct feeling that this owl was male.

Picking up the new letter, Harry compared the address on it to the first letter. Though they appeared to be written by two different hands, there were several slight similarities that were troubling to say the least.

_Harry J. Potter  
July 31, 2008 – 5:08PM  
Godric's Hollow,  
Outskirts of Perth_

An urge to destroy the letter welled up inside Harry as his hand trembled slightly while his eyes stayed glued on his name. Something in the back of his mind screamed that nothing good could come of opening it, yet he was half convinced it was just some kind of twisted joke that his colleagues from work, or some of his friends, thought to play on him. Yet he couldn't shake the foreboding feeling that, deep down, this was far more serious then that.

Slowly sinking back into the chair he'd been sitting in a minute earlier, and without really paying attention to what he was doing, Harry tore open the envelope and gingerly removed another piece of parchment that appeared to be considerably older then that of the first letter. As he unfolded it, he was jolted out of the numbness that had settled over him by the soft shushing sound of a chain pouring out onto the table from between the sheets of paper.

Curious, he set the parchment down and peered at the long, thin necklace that had been sent with the letter. Its delicate links of gold sparkled enticingly in the flickering candle light as an elusive, and long forgotten, memory stirred in the back of his mind. Before he could give it more thought though, his attention was drawn to the owl that had delivered the letter. It had ruffled its feathers and hooted softly as it hopped closer to Harry, bringing his mind back to the unread note.

Picking up the paper once more, Harry began reading it. His confusion apparent in the way his brows furrowed and his nose crinkled up as his eyes flicked from side to side.

_Mr. Potter, _

_I am in desperate need of your assistance. I realize  
that you are a busy man, and that your current job  
requires your complete attention. However, it is  
imperative that you set aside the time it will take  
to help me with the issue at hand._

_You might think this is a joke or a cruel hoax, as I  
once thought it to be, but both of our futures depend  
upon your actions in this matter._

_Enclosed you will find a small device to help you  
on your way. Your destiny awaits; two turns back  
and a short jump will take you to a familiar place.  
Further instructions will be given to you there. _

_PJH ~ HJP_

Harry snorted in disbelief, the sender expected him to follow their directions without even a minimal explanation as to what he was being required to do. Again the overwhelming urge to destroy the letter and forget its content flooded through his mind, but as he extended the frail paper towards the nearest candle he hesitated as he remembered something he'd been told many years ago.

_There will come a time when you will have to walk blindly in order to see what is needed._

He hadn't understood what it had meant at the time, but he thought he knew now. Deliberately, and with more doubts then he could count, Harry set the letter down on the table and gently lifted the golden chain from where it lay on the table. Suspended from the middle of the chain was a complicated instrument that contained a familiar hour glass filled with glittering sand.

The last time Harry had seen such a device, he'd been fighting for his life down in the Department of Mysteries at the end of his fifth year at Hogwarts. In fact, he'd accidentally helped destroy close to one thousand of them when the Death Eater he'd been battling had crashed into the shelf that contained them.

"A timeturner?" Harry blurted aloud as he leaned closer in order to try to read the inscription that was engraved along the outside edge of the device. "_Time Stands Still for No Man._ What is that supposed to mean?" Shaking his head in confusion, he turned to study the second note once more when several words and phrases leapt out at him.

_Desperate... set aside the time... both of our futures... device... two turns back..._

"Someone has been watching me and they want me to go back in time," Harry deduced incredulously. "Two turns... two hours? What could have happened two hours ago that I would have to go back and fix now?"

Disgruntled with his train of thoughts, Harry placed the timeturner back on the table and pushed himself out of the chair. Returning to the refrigerator he opened it once more and pulled out a covered pot full of left over stew. Heading over to the stove, he took out his wand and lit the nearest burner before setting the pot on to warm.

Moving about the kitchen he took out a plate, spoon, cup, and a pitcher of chilled fruit juice and arranged them on the table as far away from the letters and timeturner as possible. Next he took out a fresh loaf of bread from the bread box, sliced off a couple of thick pieces, and placed them on a napkin before spreading them with a liberal amount of butter. He carried the bread with him to check on the warming pot, and stirred the stew a couple of times before setting the napkin of bread on the table.

As he worked, his eyes kept wandering back to the glittering timeturner as he pondered how to deal with the puzzling request he'd been sent. It wasn't really the nature of the request that bothered him so much; it was the fact that he really had no idea who it was that might have sent such a request to him. Merlin knew; Harry had completed a wide array of odd and unsettling assignments during the five years he'd been working as an Auror at the Ministry, not to mention the events that occurred during his years at Hogwarts. He had also made more then his fair share of enemies, any one of whom could wish him harm. Spending a few hours back in time though, would be far more preferable to attending yet another press conference with Minister Scrimgeour or listening to the overbearing man's arguments as to why Harry needed to pose for several promotional shots to help support him in the up coming re-election campaign.

Pushing thoughts of work from his mind, Harry put out the fire under the pot and ladled a generous amount of the savory stew into a bowl that was sitting nearby. Inhaling the tantalizing aroma as he carried it to his place setting, Harry couldn't help but smile as the faces of his closest friends and family floated from the recesses of his mind. He had been given the generous portion of stew, and several other favorite dishes, by Mrs. Weasley a few days earlier after celebrating his twenty-eighth birthday at the Burrow over the weekend.

Even though he'd been living on his own for many years now, Mrs. Weasley watched over him as if he was still an adolescent wizard attending Hogwarts School of Magic. How she managed to find the time to think of him when she was constantly surrounded by a dozen or more grandkids never failed to amaze Harry. Thinking of the newest Weasley generation brought back the wave of sadness from earlier and chased Harry's appetite away. Leaning back in his chair, Harry soon became lost in a flood of pain filled memories from the end of the war.

_Times were dark; Lord Voldemort's confidence and power had grown in leaps and bounds once word of Dumbledore's death had spread to the far reaches of the wizarding world. Most folks didn't leave their houses for any reason, so great was their fear that they'd be attacked if they set foot out of their homes. Harry, with the aid of his best friends Ron and Hermione along with a few other dedicated members of the old defense club, doggedly set out to find and destroy the remaining horcruxes. _

_It took the better part of three years to track them all down and the prices they paid along the way were high. Lives were lost, many close and dear friends murdered as they faced dark magic, fearsome creatures, and Death Eaters time and time again. The greatest blow wouldn't come until the end though, just when the tide of war was starting to turn._

_Information had been leaked to Voldemort, and the Dark Lord had discovered that Harry and his friends had been destroying his horcruxes over the last several years. In his anger Voldemort had lashed out viciously, hitting the Order hard, in a series of cold blooded attacks that left the wizarding world in further shambles. It was during one such attack that Ginny Weasley was murdered, along with Remus Lupin, Rubeus Hagrid, and Nymphadora Tonks._

_Harry, numb with rage and grief after learning of the attack, had sought out Voldemort for the final confrontation. Instead of weakening the young wizard, as he had intended, the Dark Lord had given Harry the one thing he'd needed to defeat Voldemort – a thirst for vengeance, the desperate desire to avenge the deaths of those he'd held most dear._

_By the time the surviving members of the Order had discovered what Harry was doing, it was too late to stop him. Rallied by Ron and Hermione, the surviving members quickly gathered together and rushed to his aid – but by the time they had arrived on the scene the war was already over. All that remained was to identify the dead and chase down the last of the Death Eaters that had fled the moment Voldemort had been defeated._

Harry blinked back his tears as he rose to his feet and headed over to the window for the third time that evening. Eight years had passed since that fateful day and while time had eased the pain, Harry never forgot the love he felt for Ginny. A sigh escaped from his lips as Harry gently pushed the heartache from his mind and he turned away from the window to study the kitchen. Right away his eyes were drawn to the letters that sat on his table and in that moment Harry made the decision that he'd follow the instructions that had been sent to him.

Moving quickly, least his resolve fade, he collected the letters and the timeturner from the table and trotted out of the kitchen. He then set about preparing for what he assumed would be a short journey; he showered, put on a fresh set of robes, gathered up his father's invisibility cloak, his Firebolt, an emergency potions kit, and a supply of parchment and quills. After packing everything into his traveling bag, he scoured the room to make sure he'd not left out anything he might need. On impulse, he added the old Sneak-o-Scope that Ron had given him in their third year, the two-way mirror that Sirius had given to him before he passed through the veil, his DA galleon, and the Marauder's Map.

Satisfied that he was as prepared as he could be, he placed the timeturner's chain over his head and slipped his overnight bag securely onto his shoulder as he took out his wand. He'd just finished twisting the dial back the required two turns when he heard the creak of a footstep coming from behind him. He whipped around and caught the barest glimpse of an older man watching him before the room around him began to dissolve in a swirl of colors.


	2. Part 2 – Shock, Confusion, & Preparation

**DISCLAIMER:** _All HP characters are the property of JKR, the WB, and respective publishing companies - this is nothing more than a simple FanFiction that I have written. I have made no money from this or any of the other stories I have posted on this or other sites._

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**Prologue Part 2 – Shock, Confusion, and Preparation**

His world was nothing more then a rush of brilliant colors that flashed passed him in an unending stream and the constant roaring of a non existent wind. Unable to stop his reckless plunge backwards through time, Harry settled on silently berating himself for stupidly, and blindly, following the instructions of some unknown person. Slowly, though he had no real conception of the passing time, Harry became aware of the fact that his travel through time was lasting considerably longer then it should. When he'd gone back in time with Hermione during their third year to save Sirius and Buckbeak, the entire shift had seemed to last less then two heartbeats.

Yet, he was still trapped within the void that the timeturner created when moving a person through time. Frantically he began to wonder if his unknown visitor had somehow tampered with the timeturner as he left, but Harry quickly squashed that thought knowing that he'd not be traveling through time right now if the timeturner was not functioning correctly.

Before he could give the matter too much more thought, his attention was turned to his surroundings as the flood of colors slowed to a stop and the world came sharply back into focus. He had only a moment to wonder at the familiar walls of his hallway when yet another familiar sensation tugged at his thoughts. A sharp yank around his belly button, and Harry was pulled out of his home and thrown through space this time – the result of an unknown portkey in his possession activating.

This second journey was over in an instant and before Harry had time to panic he was dropped unceremoniously onto the dust covered floor of a dilapidated room. Climbing to his feet, Harry tried to get a good look at the room in which he stood only to end up choking on the clouds of dust that had been disturbed by his arrival. After several minutes Harry managed to catch his breath enough to vanish the offending particles and was soon able to breathe normally.

Keeping his wand out in case this was some sort of trap, Harry searched the room for clues to where he might have ended up. A vague since of déjà vú enveloped him as his eyes fell upon the ripped and faded coverlet of an old bed. He whirled around, half expecting to see his godfather looming in the far corner, only to find traces of dust and long abandoned cobwebs hanging from the flaking paint of the walls. Disappointment cut through him briefly before the sound of flapping wings drew his attention back to his surroundings.

Keeping his wand level, he gingerly made his way out of the room and down the stairs, letting his ears guide him towards the sound as his eyes inspected the decaying steps for the slightest sign of weakness. He had just reached the ground level when something white rushed at his face from around the corner. Throwing his arms up over his face, Harry stumbled backwards onto the staircase in shock. He lay there, stunned, for several seconds before a soft hoot sounded from right above his head. Lowering his hands, Harry found himself face to face with the same owl that had delivered the second letter to his house back in his present time. It was, once more, holding an envelope addressed to Harry in its beak.

"Wouldn't the boys back home have a good laugh if they knew what had just happened," Harry grumbled to himself as he pushed away from the stairs. "Harry Potter, hero of the second war and defeater of Voldemort – cringing and fleeing from a bird half the size of a Quaffle. Some brave Auror I turned out to be."

The owl ruffled its feathers impatiently as he shifted from foot to foot and glared intently at Harry. Harry just snorted and began dusting his robes off before relieving the owl of its burden. Duty finished, the bird took off with a loud screech and disappeared without a backwards glance.

Dismissing the bird from his thoughts, Harry turned his attention to the third anonymous letter he'd received and for the second time in less then five minutes, he found himself failing backwards onto the stairs. This time it was due to a huge emotional shock, rather than a startling physical shock, his head spinning as he confirmed where – and discovered _when_ - he had ended up after his impromptu journeys.

_Harry J. Potter  
July 31, 2006 – 5:00AM  
The Shrieking Shack,  
Hogsmeade Village_

"Two years?" He gasped out after reading the address to himself multiple times. "How is that possible? Each turn is supposed to take a person back one hour!" Groping at his neck, Harry searched for the chain of the timeturner and panicked when his hands came up empty. Frantically he searched for the delicate object, throwing off his robes and checking every pocket in hopes of locating the delicate instrument.

He was just starting to work himself into a real tizzy when a second owl landed on his head and dropped a folded sheet of parchment into his searching hands. Startled, he barely had time to register the new owl's spectacled face before it was up and winging away from him.

Unfolding the paper in his hands, Harry read the brief message and felt a sense of impending doom settle around him.

_Stop trying to find what is not there, it would  
have been no further use to you anyway. Time-  
turners only run backwards, it could never  
have taken you home – I am sorry, but you'll  
have to live through the years again to return to  
your own time. _

_A Friend_

"Two years of my life lost? Just like that?" Harry repeated dumbly out loud as the letter fell from his hands. "Why wasn't that mentioned in the first two letters? _Who are you to play with my life!?_" This last was screamed to the empty home and Harry felt completely stupid as nothing but the silence answered him back.

Groaning, Harry buried his face in his hands as he tried to comprehend what he'd just done to himself. How long he sat there like that, he didn't know, but when he finally raised his head it was to see that the snowy owl had returned with yet another letter. The bird studied him with glowing yellow eyes for a few seconds before it hopped onto his knee and offered him the letter.

Automatically Harry reached out and accepted the envelope, his eyes never leaving those of the bird as it calmly clung to his leg and watched him in return. Unsettled, Harry dropped his eyes and read the front of the envelope before slowly ripping it open and pulling out the letter it contained. Right away he noticed that it was written on the same parchment as the other letters, yellowed with age yet still crisp – as if it was just made.

Slowly he unfolded the thick sheets and read the words as the owl sat watching him.

_Mr. Potter, _

_Thank you for accepting my offer. I know that  
at the moment you are angry and that you feel  
you have been tricked. I felt the same way in the  
beginning, but please give me a chance to explain. _

_I could not warn you about the risks of the task set  
out before you in your time – the danger would have  
been too great and I could not risk the chance that you  
might turn me down. _

_The previous letter, which you have not yet read,  
contains the detailed instructions that I had mentioned  
in my first letter to you._

Harry stopped reading at this point and searched the room around him as the words sunk in. Whoever had sent him this letter was watching him, he knew it, how else could this person know he'd not yet read the first letter? A shudder passed through Harry before he turned his attention back to the letter in hand.

_No, I am not watching you, though it must seem  
that way to you. Just suffice it to say that if our  
positions were to be reversed, I would have done as  
you did._

_Our fate now rests in your hands._

_PJH ~ HJP_

The back of Harry's neck prickled as he tore his eyes away from the letter once more. The more he read the more disturbed he became, and he was seriously beginning to wish he'd given more thought to what he was doing before he'd rushed off on this fools gambol. _If only I'd told Ron and Hermione what was going on before I left..._ Harry wailed mentally as he clutched the letter in his fist. _Yet, Hermione would have stopped me for sure, and Ron would have backed her up this time._ Meddling in the past was dangerous to say the least – living in the past for two years was not only stupid, but deadly and this was far from being child's play. He could end up killing himself or changing the past, or bringing back Voldemort if he made even the slightest mistake.

Harry thought about tracking down the Hermione of this time, but quickly squashed that idea – you can't interfere with the past and you certainly can't be seen by anyone who'd know who you are. Irked by how desperate his situation had become, Harry rose to his feet with in one smooth motion, knocking the owl off balance as he did so. The bird squawked angrily and flapped about his head snapping at him with its beak several times before flying off in a flurry of feathers.

Chastened, Harry took a deep breath and gathered his wits as he tried to think about his dilemma using a bit more logic and care then he had been since that first fateful letter arrived. Back in control of his common sense, Harry reached down and picked up the unopened letter that he had dropped earlier in his shock. With over exaggerated care, he ripped the envelope open and pulled out a tightly folded sheaf of thick parchment.

Leaning back against the banister, Harry began reading the instructions his mysterious employer had sent to him.

_Harry, _

_I hope you don't mind me calling you Harry, it  
seems a bit impersonal calling you by your last  
name when I know you so well. Though, you might  
feel a bit uncomfortable with that right now. _

_It is difficult to know where to begin, but time is  
running out and you must be prepared for what you  
will face during your time here. As I am sure you've  
figured out for yourself by now, you can not be seen  
by any one you know in this time. The consequences  
would be fatal – to both of us. _

_Yet, in order for you to do the job that you have come  
to do, you must interact with the very people you must  
avoid. Impossible? No, just extremely difficult. _

_I have taken the liberty of creating a new identity for  
you. It will not be easy forgetting who you are, but  
for your mission to succeed you must let go of every  
thing that is and was Harry Potter. Your habits, your  
hobbies, and your appearance are just a few of the  
things you must change. _

_We will start with your looks. Under the fifth stair,  
just three steps up from where you are standing,  
you will find an old leather suitcase filled with  
everything you will need to alter your appearance._

Harry lowered the letter and leaned down over the step in question, reaching out with one hand, he lifted the wooden board from the top of the step to reveal a magically expanded cubby hole that contained a much battered leather case. He lifted it out and replaced the board before sitting down and balancing the suitcase on his knees so he could open it up to learn what was inside.

The first thing he noticed was that, like the hole in the stair, the suitcase had been expanded with magic so that there was considerably more room inside than there appeared to be at first glance. Sitting on the very top was a set of elaborate robes of a deep burgundy trimmed with gold stitching. It was a familiar set of robes, though Harry could not recall where he had seen them before. Setting them off to one side, he reached back into the case and pulled out three identical blue bottles. Setting two of them down next to the robes, he brought the third up close to his face so that he could read the label on the back.

_Tired of unmanageable hair? Sick of listening  
to your friends make fun of the way you look? Then  
you've come to the right potion!_

'_Sangramod's Two Step Hair Taming Potion' is the  
only cure to bad hair days. Take your hats off boys –  
because you won't have to hide behind them any  
more!_

Harry snorted with disbelief and flipped the bottle around so he could read the directions on the other side of the bottle.

_Take one teaspoon of Sangramod's Two Step Hair  
Taming Potion and pour it onto the top of your head.  
Using your hands, rub the mixture in well and let sit  
for twenty minutes. Wash and rinse thoroughly. Wand  
dry and style._

Harry immediately thought of his second year Defense against the Dark Arts professor, the self promoting and fraudulent Gilderoy Lockhart. Shaking his head, he set the bottle down next to the rest of Sangramod's Potion bottles and pulled out a slim plastic case. Curious, Harry opened and discovered a set of Muggle contacts floating in a clear liquid. A closer look revealed that the portion of the contact that would sit directly over the irises was colored a pale reddish orange. Puzzled, Harry added them to the items he'd already glanced at and went back to digging through those that remained. A tube of Ramalda's Scar-Be-Gone (A hag's favorite make-up miracle!), a pair of dueling gloves that matched the burgundy robes, a gold belt with wand pouch, and a bottle of hair die that claimed to bleach a person's hair without staining their robes.

Still not certain what to do with everything he'd found, Harry carefully packed it back into the leather case and returned his attention to the letter of instructions to find out what he needed to do next.

_Now, I know you must be full of questions about  
what to do next, it's quite simple though. You use  
those items and turn yourself into a new person. First  
you'll want to bleach your hair to a pale brown –  
it'll take two applications of the hair die to get it  
light enough. Next, apply Sangramod's Tamer,  
giving it an extra five minutes time before you wash  
and rinse. Trust me, those five minutes will make a  
world of difference. _

_The robes, of course, are your new uniform. A step up  
from the plain black Auror's robes you've been  
wearing for the last five years. They were created  
specifically for you using dragon's hide, goose down  
felt, and unicorn hair thread. A wide range of  
protective spells woven into the fabric to prevent  
ordinary wear and tear and to offer a measure of  
protection to the wearer. They are the signature mark  
of a professional dueler. _

_The contacts will disguise the color of your eyes,  
changing their green to a more common brown. Lastly,  
use the Scar-Be-Gone to cover and hide your lighting  
bolt scar. This is the most important part of your new  
identity – for the scar will be recognized by any one  
who sees it. A permanent sticking charm should help  
prevent accidental removal of the cover up._

Harry looked up from the letter once more and glanced back down at the case containing his magical disguise. He knew it was the only way he'd even have a chance of surviving the next two years, he was just too recognizable a figure to walk around as if he belonged in this time – especially given the fact that his self from this time was out there right now, hunting down the last remnants of Voldemort's followers and others looking to follow in the footsteps of Voldemort.

A wave of hopelessness passed through Harry as the knowledge of what he'd done came crashing down for the second time. He shook off the feeling though, determined to make the best of his foolish headlong rush into an unknown situation. Grim determination filled his face as he picked up the two hair care products and made his way up the stairs to the bathroom that sat beside the room he'd dropped into when he first arrived.

He paused briefly on the threshold of the bathroom, taking in the dilapidated condition of the facility. The faucets of the sink and tub appeared to be rusted and covered with hard water stains, their porcelain finishes chipped and cracked in numerous places. Every surface of the room, from the floor to the ceiling, was covered in a thick layer of dust, mold, and cobwebs. The walls, once a bright white, were faded to an ugly yellow grey and thick with flakes of peeling paint, while the linoleum on the floor was missing in several places – looking as if it had been torn up in large sections during a blind rage. Where the toilet normally would have sat, there was only a small heap of rubble out of which grew several bunches and clumps of dandelions and milk weed.

Recalling his earlier encounter with the layers of dust from the other room, Harry took a moment to vanish the offending particles before entering the small room. Than spent a moment inspecting both the tub and the sink before coming to the conclusion that the sink would suit his needs best. Even then it took several minutes and several rust removal spells before he was able to coax the water out of the old faucet on the sink, but soon after that he had the sink basin filled with warm water. Striping off his shirt, he tossed it over the side of the tub before ducking his head into the sink and scrubbing his hair to get the dust and dirt out of it. When he finished, he groped off to his left expecting to find a towel hanging there only to come up empty handed.

Blinking the dirty water out of his eyes, he picked up his shirt instead and used it to wring out the excess water from his sopping mop before draping it back over the side of the tub to dry. Next he opened the bottle of Hair Bleach and after checking the direction, poured out a measured amount of the color changing potion and rubbed it into his hair with care.

As he watched his reflection while he worked the potion in, he noticed an immediate reaction as his hair slowly began morphing from black to dark brown. Another ten minutes later, he dunked his head to a fresh sink full of water and rinsed the potion's residue from his scalp before using his shirt as a towel once more. When he glanced at his reflection a second time, it was to find his hair a medium chestnut color.

He wasn't exactly sure how he felt about the look, but he didn't spend too much time thinking about it as he applied the bleaching potion a second time as his unknown advisor had instructed him to do. This time the color change was a bit more drastic when he rinsed off his hair once more to discover it had turned a creamy yellow brown. He stared at himself for quite some time before coming back to the matter at hand and starting on the next potion - Sangramod's Hair Taming Potion.

Working quickly, he applied the directed amount straight to his hair and worked it in down to his scalp. Knowing it would be a while before it was finished working; he picked up his still damp shirt and headed back down stairs to see what else the letters had to say. As he settled back down next to the leather case, he reached in and pulled out the small pack that contained his contacts and took a moment to put them on in place of his glasses.

It was an odd sensation, wearing contacts for the first time, and as his eyes got used to the strange feeling, he blinked several times and glanced around the room to judge how accurate the prescription was. When he noticed no discernable difference between his visual clarity, he picked up both letters from where he'd left them sitting on the stairs, took a moment to find his place, and started reading on from where he'd last left off.

_Now that you are nearly dressed to play the part,  
it's time for you to start developing your new personality.  
Though, you already have an idea of how you will need  
to present yourself, there are some things that will take a  
bit of practice. _

_First, your new name: Professor James Harrison._

Harry dropped the letter as if he'd been burned, shock and disbelief crowding into his mind again as memories of Professor Harrison rose up from the back of his mind.

_He was sitting at the Gryffindor table with his best friends, Ron and Hermione, at the beginning of his six year at Hogwarts listening to Professor Dumbledore giving his familiar welcome speech. His stomach growled faintly as Dumbledore finished listing the latest Weasley products that had been added to the list of forbidden possessions before turning to introduce this years Defense against the Dark Arts Professor. _

_Hermione leaned forward to whisper a hasty, 'I wonder where he stands with the Ministry.', as a light haired man in deep maroon and gold robes rose to his feet and performed a half bow to the silent, staring students. Dumbledore then asked all of the students to give a warm welcome to Professor James Harrison, former Dueling Instructor for Perth County._

As that memory faded, another followed rapidly on its heels...

_Harry stood half hidden behind Ron and Hermione as the three of them filed into the Defense classroom several minutes early for their first lesson of the term. He couldn't help but notice how similar the décor was to how the room had looked during his fourth year, when Barty Crouch Jr. disguised as Alastor Moody had taught this same class. The only major difference was the way the desks had been arranged so that half of them sat on either side of the room facing each other across a large open walkway that was lined with a thick black rug._

_Standing in the middle of the empty row, was their new Professor with his back turned to the door as he used his wand to hang several complicated charts onto the wall behind the instructor's desk. Unsure of themselves, the trio stood rooted at the edge of the rug and watched as the rest of their sixth year housemates and the sixth year Ravenclaws queued up behind them. Unaware of his growing audience, the Professor had backed straight into Hermione knocking both her and Ron into the first row of desks. Professor Harrison had whipped around as if startled and began helping Ron to his feet when his eyes had fallen on Harry giving Hermione a hand up. _

_Harrison had lost his grip on Ron, allowing the unbalanced redhead to fall back onto the floor as his eyes traveled up to Harry's forehead and focused on the lightning bolt scare for a minute before meeting Harry's suspicious eyes. Harry had felt wary of the scrutiny that he was being given and soon broke eye contact with the new Professor as he pushed passed the stunned man to help Ron up. _

_When he looked at his instructor again, it was to find that the man had not taken his eyes off of Harry, his face pale and drawn while his whole body trembled. Harry had thought, at the time, that the man had seemed unwell or spooked and wondered why Dumbledore had hired him._

Harry rubbed his face with his hand as he tried to come to terms with what he'd just learned. It was especially difficult for him to even comprehend that he'd apparently spent a year learning dueling techniques and defensive spells from his older self without realizing it at he time. In the hopes that he might have been mistaken about what he was supposed to do and when he was supposed to do it, he turned his attention back to the letter and read on.

_I am sure you recognize the name, and that you recall  
the uneasy relationship the two of you had during your  
sixth year at Hogwarts. If I recall rightly, you'd sworn up  
and down that the man was not who he clamed to be, you  
even suspected him of being a Death Eater until the end  
of term. _

_I wish I could offer you comfort and find a way for you to  
avoid what must be done. However, if you are to follow  
the path that led you to where you are now, you must put  
aside your fears and continue as you have been. _

_This is why you were brought here, you must not fail to  
teach yourself how to defeat Voldemort, if you do, than  
the future where you belong will be lost and many more  
innocents will die. _

_Everything you will need will be waiting for you when  
you arrive. Aries, the snowy owl who has been delivering  
my letters, will have the two timeturners that will help  
you on your way. Four turns and ten, is all it will take._

_PJH ~ HJP_

Harry flipped the parchment over several times, looking for a logical explanation as to what was going on. No matter which way he turned it though, there was nothing more. No long winded explanations as to why or how he had ended up in this position, nor were there any solid clues yet as to the identity of the wizard or witch that was sending him these letters – other then the initials 'PJH' and 'HJP', what ever they were supposed to mean. The only thing that stopped Harry from running to the nearest fireplace to Floo the Ministry was the fact that he'd already done what was being asked of him. That he could prove, for he had all of his memories of his sixth year, including the ones of Professor Harrison, to show that he'd somehow managed to do the impossible.

Scrambling to his feet without really being aware of what he was doing, Harry slowly made his way back upstairs and into the bathroom where he filled the sink once more with water before dunking his head into the basin and rinsing out the Taming potion. When he finished, he raised his head and stared into the mirror once - heedless of the water that poured down his face, chest, and back. Staring back at him was the face of a man that he'd mistrusted, and practically hated, for nearly an entire year – the face of James Harrison – if you disregarded the thin, white, jagged scar that stood out plainly against the redness of his face from the heat of the water.

When he next became conscious of what he was doing, Harry found himself back down on the stairs dressed in the burgundy robes, clutching the tube of Scar-Be-Gone in one hand and his wand in the other. The numbness that had carried him through the last hour of preparations had worn off and Harry felt torn about what he had to do next as a final step of erasing his identity. He had to cover up his scar. For twenty five years of his life that scar had defined who he was, it was his only link to his parents and it was at the heart of everything that had gone wrong in his life.

Choking down his conflicting emotions, Harry stepped off of the stairs and approached a cracked mirror that hung beside a half chewed arm chair in the living room of the Shrieking Shack. With a trembling hand, he twisted the cap off of the tube of make up and pressed out a generous dab of the thick paste onto the tip of his finger. Leaning closer, so as to see his face more clearly, he began rubbing the paste onto his scar – spreading it out in a thin even layer all across his forehead so that it blended in with his natural skin tones. He inspected his work for a few seconds, making sure he didn't miss any clumps that might stick out, then raised his wand and pointed the tip at his face just above his eyes. Bracing himself, so as not to flinch when he applied the charm, he muttered the incantation clearly as he performed the required wand movements.

A warm tingling sensation crawled along his skin as the bluish light brushed against his head and when it faded, he reached up to wipe a finger over the place where his scar used to sit. Nothing happened, his scar was truly gone and there was no way to bring it back. It was at that moment that Aries, the male snowy, fluttered down onto the armchair beside him – in his beak he clasped the chains of a matching pair of timeturners, one of them slightly smaller then the other.

Harry reached out and took them from the owl and placed them over his head as he returned to the stairs and packed the Scar-Be-Gone into the leather suitcase along with his traveling bag and the other items he'd been given. He was trying to determine which timeturner he was meant to use when a small sooty owl appeared holding another letter in its beak. Harry relieved the bird of its burden and unfolded the note to quickly read what it had to say.

_To be on your way, you must first use the smaller of the  
two devices to take you back four days earlier. _

_When you arrive, you will need to use the larger timeturner  
once more to take you back to the end of the summer before  
your sixth term starts. _

_Jumping in this manner will prevent you from crossing your  
own path as time begins moving forward once more. _

_Good luck, friend._

Harry lifted the smaller timeturner and studied it for a moment before tucking the letter into his pocket with the others. He then wiped his sweaty palms against his new robes to dry them before carefully counting each turn of the dial he made on the diminutive device – stopping the moment he reached four.

He became engulfed in a swirl of colors as he was transported back to a time four days earlier, the trip considerably shorter then his first journey through time. Once all movement stopped he took a few shaky breaths before letting go of the smaller timeturner and lifting the larger one up so he could twist the knob back ten times. The now familiar swirl of colors flooded his sight as he was whisked back six years in time, a journey that seemed to last a life time as Harry lost touch with the world around him and soon lost consciousness as the physical stress of traveling so far back through time overwhelmed him.


	3. Lesson 1 – Applying for the Job

**DISCLAIMER:** _All HP characters are the property of JKR, the WB, and respective publishing companies - this is nothing more than a simple FanFiction that I have written. I have made no money from this or any of the other stories I have posted on this or other sites._

* * *

**Lesson 1 – Applying for the Job**

When he awoke, it was to find himself sprawled on the floor of the Shrieking Shack at the foot of the stairs covered once more in the dust that had gathered in the unused building. As he pushed himself into a sitting position, he couldn't help but notice how his body ached all over – as if he'd just fallen down the stairs. Massaging a bruised rib, he allowed himself a few minutes to catch his breath before climbing painfully to his feet. He swayed from side to side as wave of dizziness passed through him before he seemingly returned to normal.

He assumed that the aches he felt were the direct result from traveling such a long distance through time in such short intervals. _I'll have to ask Hermione_, Harry thought to himself before he caught what he was thinking. _No, I can't ask Hermione – Hermione doesn't even know I am here, not my Hermione. And I can't ask the old Hermione, because she'll figure out who I really am._

A fresh wave of sadness washed through him as he realized that he was truly alone for the first time in his life since he'd learned that he was a wizard. There were no friends to discuss the latest developments with, no motherly figures to worry over his health, there wasn't a single person who could help him through what lay ahead except for an unknown entity that sent him vague and sometimes confusing letters about what he was to do.

A sigh of longing escaped his lips as he wished that he'd never opened any of the letters that had been sent to him when this mess first began. It was a futile wish though, for even he knew that there would have been no escaping from his present course given the fact that he'd already performed the job back when he was growing up.

Shaking his head at his own confusing train of thought, Harry began to explore the ground floor of the shack. He didn't know exactly what it was he was looking for, but he had a feeling he'd know when he found it. Starting in the living room, where the tunnel that led to the Whomping Willow could be found, he felt a wave of sadness fill him as he caught sight of the chewed and broken furniture.

"I miss you, Remus," Harry breathed tightly as memories of his mentor filled his thoughts.

After a while he forced himself to turn away from the damaged room and continued his search. Finding nothing that seemed out of place, he turned to the stairs and started climbing up them. He was nearly to the top when he remembered the hidden compartment under the fifth stair. Hurrying back down to the bottom, he leaned down and tried to life the top board off of the step so he could search underneath. He was a bit shocked when nothing happened, and further probing revealed that the hidden cubby didn't exist in this time.

Completely confused, Harry mounted the stairs again and climbed to the top slowly as he tried to push thoughts of the missing hiding place from his mind. Once on the landing of the upper floor, Harry automatically moved towards the bedroom where the confrontation with Sirius, Remus, and Wormtail had taken place three years earlier. It looked much as it had when he had been brought there ten years or so into the future – though the coverlet on the bed didn't look quite as faded as it had then.

He was about the exit the room and keep searching, when he registered the fact that something in the room looked out of place. It took him several minutes to figure out what was so different about the room, but once he knew what it was, he didn't see how he could have missed it the first time. There was no dust in the room – the floors looked recently swept and there wasn't a spec of dust to be found on any of the furniture in the room. Even the walls looked liked that had been recently washed.

Knowing he had found the first clue to discovering what he was looking for, Harry started to sit down on the edge of the bed to consider his next step when the sound of parchment crinkling caused him to stop and face the bed. Reaching out, he grabbed hold of the coverlet and threw it back to reveal a collection of books, devices, and knickknacks. Sitting off to one side was the thick roll of parchment that he had nearly sat on. Harry silently congratulated himself as he picked the parchment and unrolled the thick stack so he could read what it contained.

_James,_

_I know it must feel uncomfortable to be addressed by any  
name other then your given one, but you must get used to  
your new name and stop thinking of yourself as Harry  
Potter. To do otherwise will put your life in grave peril. _

_In your hand you hold a completed application for the  
position of Professor for the Defense against the Dark Arts  
that is currently unfilled. You will need to deliver it to  
Professor Dumbledore personally in two hours time.  
Dumbledore is expecting you so do not be late._

_The rest of the items I have left for you will be of help to  
you during the course of the year. I advise taking them  
with you, for you will not have time to return for them  
once you have been escorted to your new office and living  
quarters. _

_The last thing I must address before I leave you, is the map  
that you brought with you from the future. As you will recall,  
the map pinpoints the locations of everyone that is inside the  
castle – regardless of any disguises they are wearing. This  
will cost you your life, unless you cast the Fidelius Charm  
upon yourself. _

_I would suggest using Aries as your secret keeper – his  
silence is guaranteed. Though, if you'd rather find  
someone else that is entirely understandable. Once you have  
concealed the truth of your identity inside of the secret  
keeper, not even the map will be able to reveal who you  
really are – you will then appear as Professor James  
Harrison to everyone who uses the map, including your  
younger self._

_I wish you luck. I will contact you at Hogwarts should the  
need arise, though I doubt it will. _

_PJH ~ HJP_

Harry lowered the letter and looked up to see Aries winging into the room. The owl landed on the bed silently and turned to study Harry as the two of them sat facing each other. Harry right away noticed that Aries looked considerably younger then he had the first few times he had appeared – which made sense because the owl couldn't very well travel back and forth across time. Harry briefly considered trying to find someone else to be his secret keeper, but he realized that it would be too much of a risk to trust another human with his true identity.

"I suppose that means the job is yours," Harry remarked to the owl as he broke eye contact and rose to his feet. "Hope you don't have any objections."

Slipping his wand out of his back pocket, Harry mentally prepared himself for the task of performing the Fidelius Charm – a spell he had only performed one other time back when he offered protection to his aunt and uncle after he became of age. At the time he'd been surprised that they had accepted his help, but then – his aunt was fully aware of how dangerous Voldemort could be to their family. Their secret had been concealed inside of Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon had insisted, so that they could decide who would learn of their whereabouts.

Shrugging off past memories, Harry concentrated on hiding everything about himself that made him Harry Potter – his name, his scar, the color of his eyes, the unmanageable Potter hair – everything but the memories of his life. When he was ready, he closed his eyes and performed the spell and felt a shifting sensation all through his body as the magic performed the task he had asked of it. As soon as he returned to normal, he opened his eyes and performed the last part of the spell – touching the tip of his wand to Aries face, just above the bird's eyes – he chanted the second incantation and watched as a soft pale yellow light sparked from his wand and encased Aries in a soft glow.

As the spell faded, Aries hooted softly and hopped closer to Harry, extending a claw out as if he'd liked to be picked up. Harry obliged the creature and dropped his hand lower so the bird could climb into his wrist. Harry smiled wistfully as he raised his hand back up so as to get a closer look at Aries. He was poignantly reminded of the first time he held Hedwig and a lump formed in the back of his throat as he gently stroked Aries' feathers.

He let himself get lost in old memories for a few minutes longer before noticing a small scroll tied to Aries' leg. Carefully, so as not to jostle the bird, he reached out and untied it before setting the contented owl back down onto the bed before opening the note.

_Take care of Aries – I know he can't replace  
Hedwig, but he will be as faithful as she was. _

_A Friend_

Harry frowned as he glanced at the owl over the top of the letter, not quite comprehending what was going on. How could he receive letters from an unknown source in the future from an owl that he'd just been given in the past? Maybe he loaned the bird to someone he had yet to meet after he finished what he'd come to do. Shaking his head, something he was doing quite often lately, Harry pushed his confusion from his thoughts and began packing up the items into a second leather suitcase that had been left for that purpose.

Finished, he glanced at his watch and found that he only had about twenty-five minutes left until he was due to meet with Professor Dumbledore to apply for the Defense Position. Lugging the case full of his teaching materials down stairs, he dropped it beside the other case holding his personal possessions before pulling out the rolled up application that he had found upstairs.

He studied the document for several minutes before rolling it back up and tucking it safely inside one of the many pockets of his new robes. Knowing that he would have to hurry if he didn't want to be late, Harry gathered up both of the suitcases and whistled for Aries – half expecting the owl to ignore his call. Aries flew to him without hesitation though, landing on his left shoulder, and Harry walked towards the front door of the Shrieking Shack only to stop in his tracks when he recalled that he couldn't get out that way. He nearly panicked as he stood there holding both suitcases – unsure of how he'd get to the castle if he couldn't out of the building.

He gaze briefly flickered to the trap door that hid the Whomping Willow tunnel from site, but quickly dismissed the idea of using it. Very few people were even aware of its existence and to be seen arriving that way would raise too much suspicion from the ones that knew of it. He also considered apparating, but he knew the same protective wards that surrounded Hogwarts, surrounded the Shrieking Shack – a precaution Dumbledore had taken to insure an unwary witch or wizard didn't apparate inside while a fully grown werewolf resided within the building.

Stuck, Harry absently stared around the room, determined to figure out a way to get up to the castle without drawing undue attention to himself. He moved away from the useless front door and headed towards the tattered armchair thinking he would sit down for a moment to gather his thoughts and plan his next move. Halfway to the chair, he altered his course and headed towards the far corner of the room where a small four foot fire place stood free of dust. Stuck to the mantel, between two matching vases, was a slip of parchment with a single word scrawled across the middle of it: _Floo_.

"Ah, so that's how I'm supposed to," Harry stated as he set both cases down on the floor to free his hands so he could take down the note from the mantel. He quickly tucked it into his pocket that held all of his previous notes and took out his wand to cast an enlargement charm on the fireplace so that he could stand comfortably inside and light a small fire. Next he checked both vases for Floo powder and was pleased to discover a fresh supply in the left hand vase. Tossing a pinch of into the fire, Harry gathered his suitcases and stepped into the glowing green flames.

"Dumbledore's Office," He shouted out firmly before his mouth filled with ashes and he began coughing as he was sent swirling through the network.

He landed as gracefully as ever when he reached his destination, his clothes and hair covered with a generous dusting of ashes and flat on his face. He groaned softly as he rubbed at his stinging nose and pushed himself to his feet as a soft chuckling filled the office.

"Good afternoon," A familiar voice greeted, "I presume I have the pleasure of speaking to Mr. James Harrison?"

"Yes, I am James Harrison, sir," Harry replied as he turned his attention to brushing the dust from his clothes.

"Please, call me Albus," Dumbledore insisted warmly.

Harry's hands stopped brushing as he slowly focused on the older man standing before him. He looked much as he remembered – long white hair and matching beard, twinkling blue eyes behind half moon glasses that held a spark of laughter, and the shriveled, blackened wand arm. "It is an honor to meet you at last, Professor Dumbledore. My father spoke highly of you when I was but a boy bouncing on his knee."

"Likewise Mr. Harrison, or might I call you James?" Dumbledore inquired as he waved the disguised Harry forward.

Harry stepped forward and gave Dumbledore's good hand a firm shake before taking a seat, answering his old headmaster promptly. "James will be fine."

"Wonderful," Dumbledore crowed as he flipped through several piles of parchments on his desk and selected the one he needed. "How was your journey?"

"Rough," Harry answered truthfully, "I've never been overly fond of traveling by Floo."

"Is your family well?"

"I have no family left, sir, my parents died several years ago," Harry supplied truthfully.

Dumbledore offered his condolences before skillfully maneuvering the conversation into a more pleasant direction. They covered a wide range of topics from schooling to the weather to the latest song released by The Weird Sisters to what the house elves were making for supper that evening. It was a very pleasant conversation for Harry, who had never really gotten to know Professor Dumbledore when he still attended Hogwarts as a student. And for a while he was able to forget his troubles and block out his memory of what the future held for the wise man sitting across from him.

They were just debating about the over all quality of Muggle candies, when they heard someone knocking at the door which was shortly followed by the entrance of Professor McGonagall. Harry automatically rose to his feet with Dumbledore as the older wizard introduced him to her.

"Ah, Minerva dear, meet young James Harrison," Albus stated as he waved a hand in Harry's direction, "he will be filling the post of Professor of the Dark Arts for the coming school term. James, this is my deputy headmistress and head of Gryffindor – Minerva McGonagall."

Harry gave a graceful half bow in McGonagall's direction before shaking her hand warmly as he tried to cover up his shock at being appointed the position before he'd even handed over his application. "How do you do, Professor McGonagall?"

"Minerva," McGonagall admonished as she gave him one of her rare smiles.

"Minerva," Harry corrected automatically, knowing from experience it was best to avoid incurring her wrath.

"Minerva, would you show our young professor to his classroom and give him a brief tour of the castle before joining the rest of the staff in the Great Hall?"

"Of course, Albus," Minerva agreed. "This way, James. Oh, and Albus you should know that Severus is on his way up from the dungeons – to see you about that position again."

Harry, who had started to follow McGonagall out of the room, stopped and grew cold inside at the mention of Snape. _Of course_, he worried; _Snape has always wanted the Dark Arts position!_ He snapped out of his growing panic as McGonagall called him a second time and the two of them left the headmaster's office together.


	4. Lesson 2 – Second First Impressions

**DISCLAIMER:** _All HP characters are the property of JKR, the WB, and respective publishing companies - this is nothing more than a simple FanFiction that I have written. I have made no money from this or any of the other stories I have posted on this or other sites._

* * *

**Lesson 2 – Second First Impressions**

The trip up to the Defense classroom took next to no time and Harry couldn't help but suppress a fond smile as he set his suitcases on top of the desk that he'd sat in front many a time during his years as a student. McGonagall briefly showed him the doors that led to his private quarters above and to his classroom below, before leading him back out and down to the ground floor where she began the tour of the castle starting with the Staff Room.

A vision of Snape dressed in witch's robes, complete with hat and handbag, passed through Harry's mind when he caught sight of the wardrobe and he had to cover the sharp laugh that escaped by pretending to have a coughing fit. McGonagall gave him a strange look, but didn't ask him any questions as they left the room and crossed the entry way to enter the Great Hall.

"This is where the students and the majority of the staff take their meals, though the only time you are actually required to attend a meal is during feasts. The rest of the time we try to rotate who is on duty during which meals so that the children are supervised." McGonagall explained as they swept between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. "You'll be taking the seat to the right of the Headmaster's chair and beside our potion's master, Severus Snape, as it has traditionally been assigned to all of the past Defense Professors."

Harry nodded absently as his stomach churned at the thought of sharing a years worth of meals sitting beside a man he loathed. Only the knowledge that he had the option of taking some of his meals within the sanctity of his new office to keep him from quitting before the torture began.

Moving back out into the entrance hall, McGonagall took a moment to point out the stairs that led to the dungeons and the kitchens while giving a brief description of the rooms that were located down each stairway. It was then back up the main stairs where she pointed out the offices of each teacher in turn, making it a point to list what class each professor taught, where each classroom was located, and make note of the three remaining heads of house. The tour ended at the foot of the North tower, where McGonagall glared up at a small trapdoor while she informed him that Professor Trelawney taught Divination to third years and above.

"You have a seer employed at Hogwarts then?" Harry asked quickly, feigning curiosity and interest.

"We employ a woman who practices the art," McGonagall replied evasively, her mouth thinning with annoyance.

"Ah, surely you do not think the woman a fraud," Harry teased lightly. "Will she not read of your future from among the tea leaves or through the fog of a crystal ball?"

McGonagall stared at him for a moment before chuckling softly and replying, "Impudent upstart. I do prefer concentrating on more practical branches of magic – they at least are consistent. What about you, James? What is your opinion on the lofty subject of divination?"

"I find the subject a bit tiresome, but I do think it wise to have at least a basic grasp of the concept behind telling the future." Harry answered after a moment's thought. "Not because it can tell you what will happen or how long you will live, but because it can give you an insight into the minds of certain people. Knowing how superstitious an opponent is can give you a slight edge by playing on his or her fears during a duel. It sounds a bit unethical, but in a dangerous situation it can mean the difference between life and death."

What ever reply McGonagall was going to give was cut off by the opening of the trapdoor as Trelawney descended from her classroom. "Sybil," Minerva called out in greeting when Trelawney's foot touched the floor.

"What -? Oh, Minerva, you startled me," Trelawney gasped as she whipped around to stare at Harry and McGonagall. Realizing that she had come off sounding less then mystical, Sybil cleared her throat and addressed Harry with an air of clairvoyance. "Ah, our new Professor of the Dark Arts, you've joined us at a terrible time. I'm afraid that we will only be graced with your presence for a single year."

Used to Trelawney's dire predictions and fully aware of the rumors that the Defense position was cursed, Harry simply shrugged off her words as he turned to McGonagall for a full introduction – trying his best to appear as if he'd never met the woman before.

"Sybil, James Harrison," McGonagall obliged reluctantly. "James, this is Sybil Trelawney."

It took a few seconds for Harry to respond, as he was still not completely comfortable as being addressed by a name other then his own. A few more words were exchanged before McGonagall led him back down to the Great Hall for supper, all the while explaining some of the duties he'd be expected to perform, aside from teaching, during the school year.

True to form, news of Harry's arrival flew through the castle like wildfire and the rest of the staff members were gathered in the Great Hall waiting to meet the new professor. The moment he caught sight of them all, Harry stumbled to a stop – his eyes wide and panicked as he instinctively backed up two steps.

McGonagall noticed that he wasn't beside her, and returned to drag him forward as the rest of the staff crowded closer for introductions. Only three people weren't pushing their way forward, Argus Filch – the Caretaker, Severus Snape – the Potions Master, and Rubeus Hagrid – Keeper of the Keys, Groundskeeper, and Magical Care instructor all rolled into one. Only Filch and Snape stood aside out of dislike and distrust of the newly appointed Defense professor, Hagrid simple stood back out of respect for those staff members that were less then half his size. As hand after hand reached out and shook his, McGonagall kept up a steady stream of introductions and anecdotes.

"Yolanda Hooch, the best Flying instructor Hogwarts has ever seen. Poppy Pomfrey is our school Healer, hasn't come across a spell or injury she can't fix with the shake of a wand." Minerva rattled on. "Filius Flitwick, a quick hand at charms and once a renowned dueler, like yourself. Remember he's Head of Ravenclaw. Professor Binns, the only ghost at Hogwarts to teach classes. His subject is History of Magic. Pomona Sprout is our resident Herbologist, she's wonderful with all kinds of plants and Head of Hufflepuff as I mentioned earlier. Then back behind you, you have Aurora Sinistra and Septima Vector, who teach Astronomy and Arithmancy respectively."

Harry's face hurt from smiling so much and his arm was going numb from being shaken numerous times. All the while desperately wishing he could flee back to the relative sanctuary of his office or better yet to the Shrieking Shack where there wouldn't be a chance of having late night visitors. He wouldn't be given a chance to bow out gracefully though for at that moment Dumbledore arrived and the usual house tables were banished to the far side of the room as Minerva conjured up a cozy oblong table in their place – complete with table settings.

He soon found himself wedged between a dusty Irma Pince and an over boisterous Hagrid and across from both Dumbledore and McGonagall. Dumbledore gave a short welcoming speech and dinner was served as the house elves sent food up from the kitchen below. As Harry filled his plate with thick slices of roast beef and a generous helping of mashed potatoes he felt the familiar hate filled glare of Snape boring into him from off to his right where the sullen Potions Master sat beside an equally sullen Filch. Determined to ignore the Slytherin Head, Harry turned to Hagrid who was introducing himself.

"Name's Rubeus Hagrid, but yeh can call me Hagrid," Hagrid rumbled as he leaned over Harry and clapped him on the back – causing Harry to drop his fork.

"James," Harry murmured back as he leaned down below the table and retrieved his fork. "James Harrison. You'll be the Care of Magical Creatures instructor, yes?"

"Yeah, that'll be me, though I'm also the Keeper of Keys and Grounds here as well." Hagrid confirmed.

The rest of the meal was spent debating the merits of various magical beasts and the fairness of the restrictions placed upon the more dangerous animals. Harry enjoyed listening to Hagrid describe, with fondness, a list of positive attributes for dragons, chimeras, and hippogriffs. It brought back memories of the times he, Ron and Hermione had spent down at the forest's edge with Hagrid during his years at Hogwarts. It also brought back the less than pleasant memories of the blast-ended skrewts from his fourth year.

Towards the end of the meal, Harry found himself glancing around at his fellow staff members wistfully. His eyes lingering on those that would not be around in four years. Abruptly Harry pushed to his feet and excused himself, feeling several pairs of eyes watching him curiously as he retreated from the Great Hall.

Out in the hall, Harry pressed a hand over his eyes as he leaned back against the wall and fought the newest wave of despair that flooded through his soul. He didn't know how he would last an entire year living, talking, and laughing with people that to him had been dead close to eight or more years. Once he wrestled his motions under control, he pushed away from the support of the wall and headed towards the stairs that would take him to his office and living quarters, when on impulse he turned and walked towards the door that would lead him out onto the grounds of Hogwarts.

Once outside he turned and headed towards the Quidditch Pitch, letting his thoughts wander freely as his feet carried him to the familiar stadium. Opening the main gates that led to the field, Harry felt his worries and pain melt away as a desire to fly filled him. He hadn't been on the back of a broom stick since the first year of his Auror training and he didn't realize just how much he'd missed it until he found himself looking up at the empty stands and endless sky above.

"Accio Firebolt," He cried out clearly as he kept a vision of his broom speeding towards him in his minds eye. It took a little longer then expected, but eventually he heard the unmistakable sound of a broom speeding towards him through the night. Anticipation bubbled up inside him as he caught the broom with his left hand and jumped astride as it flew to him.

And then he truly was free, the wind whipping through his hair as he shot straight up into the sky, his broom responding to his slightest touch as he rediscovered the art of flying. Up, up he soared into the night, his eyes closed tight in ecstasy. Breaking gently, he allowed the broom to slow nearly to a stop – still climbing higher – until suddenly he dropped over backwards and down. The broom picking up speed once more as it plummeted back down towards the earth, leaning forward until he was spread out lengthwise along the handle.

At the last possible moment he cut left and leveled out only two feet above the ground, whipping around the edge of the field at top speed. One full turn around he cut sharply to the left and barrel rolled from goal to goal before charging up the sides of the stands to weave in and out of the three rings on the nearest ended of the pitch. He slowed down a fraction and ran through a couple of standard Quidditch warm up laps before bring the broom to a stop and dismounting.

A goofy grin spread across his face as he shouldered the broom and made his way towards the exit, whistling softly and reveling in the pleasant ache that spread through his limbs from the brisk aerial workout.

"Enjoying a night out under the stars?" A cruel voice demanded from out of the dark.

Harry stopped in his tracks and instinctively dropped the broom while pulling out his wand and snapping around to face the speaker. It came as no surprise to Harry that it was Severus Snape standing in the shadows of the stands sneering at him. He had expected the man to confront him about the Dark Arts position eventually, but Harry had hoped he'd have a bit more time to mentally prepare for the man's spite.

"Yes, I haven't had much time during the last few years to fly simply for the pleasure of feeling the wind on my face," Harry replied honestly. "Do you fly much yourself?"

"No, it is too easy to fall off a broom and injure oneself," Snape replied disdainfully.

"Pity," Harry commented blandly, "as there are some things that can only be seen from the sky."

"I'll have to take your word for it," Snape fairly hissed. "I see you have a Firebolt – quite rare still aren't they?"

"It was a gift."

"How... convenient," Snape sneered.

Harry wasn't quite sure how to respond to that and soon an uncomfortable silence began to grow between the two men. The air between them fairly crackled with tension and alarm bells began going off in Harry's head as he recalled how accomplished Snape was at Legilimency.

"I don't believe we've been properly introduced," Harry prompted in an attempt to reestablish the conversation. "I'm -"

"An upstart who stole the job that is rightfully mine," Snape interrupted venomously.

"I wasn't aware that the position had already been filled prior to my meeting with the Headmaster," Harry stated softly, his hand tightening on his wand as Snape stepped angrily closer.

"The position would have been mine if not for you waltzing in at the last minute," Snape ground out.

"Tough break," Harry cheeked as Snape's attitude began getting to him.

"I'm warning you now, I'll be watching you," Snape threatened. "Watching and waiting for the moment you make a mistake. I will not be shoved aside for a wet-behind-the-ears momma's boy like you."

"Is that a challenge?" Harry asked with barely controlled anger, his left hand clenching and unclenching as he kept his wand at the ready.

"It's a promise," Snape clarified as he turned and strode away.

"I'll be ready and waiting, Snape," Harry called after him and was satisfied to see Severus caught by surprise at the fact that his name was known.

Harry's satisfaction of goading his old professor didn't last long though – for he knew that Snape would be watching his every move for the next year and that couldn't bode well for Harry's secret. Cursing under his breath he gathered up his broom from where it lay on the ground and slowly followed in Severus's footsteps as he made his way back to the castle.

Feeling discouraged by his encounter with Snape, Harry trudged wearily up two flights of stairs to his office and let himself in. He was greeted by a soft hooting as Aries turned to watch him from where the owl was perched on a small shelf behind the desk. Harry took a moment to run his fingers down the bird's feathers before picking up his cases and climbing up yet another flight of stairs to reach his quarters.

He opened the door and set down one of the cases so he could use his wand to ignite the lamps and was pleasantly surprised to find the main room furnished quit comfortably. One the south wall there was a large window that gave a nice view of the lake flanked by a matching set of end tables covered with crisp white doilies. On the north wall stood an elegant fireplace complete with brick hearth and wooden mantel before which stood a comfortable looking armchair with matching footstool and coffee table.

The cold stone floor was covered with an intricate rug depicting several unicorns frolicking on the edge of a forest. On both the east and west walls there were a handful of empty portraits and several paintings of the Scottish countryside. There was also a curio cabinet tucked into the north east corner filled with what looked like flasks of honeyed mead, mulled wine, and firewhiskey as well as several different sized glasses and mugs.

Leaving his cases by the door, Harry wandered into the bedroom where he found a large four poster queen sized bed, two high backed chairs, several full length mirrors, and yet another window – this one on the east wall where he could view the sunrise. Just to the right of the window sat an old roll top desk that was stacked high with blank parchment, empty ink bottles and two broken quills. Harry assumed that the previous occupant must have left them by mistake.

Off of his bedroom, Harry discovered a bathroom that was just as luxurious as the Prefect's bathroom he had used in his fourth year, but on a smaller scale. Feeling the need to relax, he quickly returned to the first room and scooped up the suitcases and carried them into the bedroom. After setting the one full of his school supplies beside the desk, he dumped the other one on his bed and dug out his travel bag. He took a few minutes to locate a clean change of clothes and then returned to the bathroom where he filled up the tub with hot water and fragrant bubbles from the many different faucets.

Quickly striping out of his new robes, he took a minute to hang them up off to one side before slipping into the tub and letting out a deep sigh of contentment as the hot water soothed his aching muscles. Leaning back, he let the mists envelope his senses as he drifted in and out of sleep while floating comfortably within the large tub.

Several hours later, Harry let the water out of the tub and dried himself off before dressing in the change of clothes he'd set out. He spent a few minutes inspecting his hair, to check if his true hair color was showing in the roots, before clearing off his bed and pulling back the covers. A brief check of the doors insured that they were locked tight against unwanted intrusion, of both the physical and magical type, and put out the lamps. He then crawled into bed where he immediately fell into a deep sleep – all worries about what tomorrow would bring fading into the blackness as his body recovered from his journey through time.

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**AN:** _This chapter is dedicated to my plot bunny,__Neuro. He is a Highly Focused Bunny (#4573 – and a distant cousin of Slightly Neurotic Bunny – sold separately), this solid brown fuzz ball knows how to get the job done—whatever that job might be. No matter the task, this devoted little guy will not let you down. He's got a work ethic like no other. Just one warning: he has been known to bite at the mention of multitasking._

_He has been a writer's dream during these last two days of writing and he's even been kind enough to eat the wads of discarded notebook paper that cluttered the floor after a particularly difficult brainstorming session. I love my little Neuro! – Jenn_


	5. Lesson 3 – Adjusting & Readjusting Facts

**DISCLAIMER:** _All HP characters are the property of JKR, the WB, and respective publishing companies - this is nothing more than a simple FanFiction that I have written. I have made no money from this or any of the other stories I have posted on this or other sites._

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**Lesson 3 – Adjusting and Readjusting the Facts**

Harry awoke the next morning, in the darkest hour just before dawn, to the sound of someone talking in the next room. Rolling out of bed and landing on cat feet, Harry moved ghostlike through the bedroom and picked up his wand. Opening the door with a flick of his wand, he caught hold of the handle and eased into the brightly lit room. He was troubled by the unfamiliar looking room for a moment, but shoved his shock aside as he focused on finding the source of the muttering and mumbling that filled the room.

Crouching down, Harry slinked forward keeping to the edges of the room to avoid throwing a shadow while cursing himself for not grabbing his invisibility cloak. As he moved through the room the sound of the voice grew louder until Harry could locate it as coming from near the fireplace. Maneuvering so that he was blocked by the bulk of the armchair, Harry listened to the speaker for a moment and slowly began to recognize the voice.

Sneaking a peek around the side of the chair confirmed his suspicions; Dobby the house elf was crouched down inside the fireplace scrubbing out the soot and ashes that had collected during the night. His voice had sounded odd from the next room because it had been echoing slighting from inside the chimney. Letting a smile form onto his face, Harry pocketed his wand and rose to his feet. He leaned casually over the back of the chair and addressed the diminutive elf.

"Good Morning, Dobby."

"Eeek!" Dobby wailed as he jumped up and banged his head on the bricks that lined the inside of the fireplace.

"I'm sorry, are you alright?" Harry asked out of concern as he hurried forward to help the elf climb down from the heath. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"Dobby is sorry to worry you, sir. Dobby is cleaning and not knowing yous awake, sir. Sir gave Dobby a fright," Dobby babbled out as the elf clung to the top of his head with both hands and turned to look up at Harry with his bright green eyes. "How does new sir know of Dobby?"

Harry froze as the last question registered in his mind and in a rush everything from the day before came rushing back. His journey back through time, the interview with Dumbledore, the tour of the castle, and his confrontation with Snape all crashing home. It was enough to make his head spin and Harry's first reaction was to drop into the arm chair and bury his face in his hands.

"Has Dobby done something to offend, Sir?" the elf inquired nervously.

"No," Harry assured, "it was nothing you have said or done. My travels have caught up with me is all. I'm sorry to have startled you, but I was not expecting any one to be in these rooms at this hour of the day."

"Dobby must apologize for startling, sir. Dobby is not being the quietist elf some mornings. Dobby can leave if sir wants Dobby gone."

"It's fine Dobby, and please call me Har... James," Harry insisted as he raised his head to smile at the elf.

"Sir is too kind to Dobby."

Harry smiled weakly and stood up once more. He patted Dobby absently on the shoulder before going back into the bedroom where he stood staring around at the unfamiliar objects that loomed in the darkness. He lit a single candle and placed it on the desk before sitting down in the chair and closing his eyes as he tried to gather his thoughts. He found it a bit hard to concentrate after a while, as he slowly became aware of how irritated his eyes were from wearing the color changing contacts for so long.

He took a minute to remove them and dug through the supplies that were left over from his disguise and soon found a bottle of eye potion that would help relieve the scratchiness and irritation caused by the contacts. Sighing in relief, he reinserted the contacts, and blinked his eyes several times to remove the excess potion from them. He briefly wondered if he shouldn't take them out every night to avoid the morning discomfort, but quickly rejected that idea – he might be called on in the middle of the night and it would be awkward to say the least if someone happened to notice his natural eye color. He'd just have to rinse them first thing every morning when he woke up.

His thoughts soon circled back to the predicament he found himself in and when Harry next took note of his surroundings, the soft glow of the rising sun had bathed his entire room in pale shades of red and orange. Climbing to his feet he walked closer to the window and stared out at the scene before him. Opening one side of the window, Harry leaned out and listened to the twittering of nearby birds as the sun topped the surrounding mountains and the entire sky lit up magnificently. Filled with renewed resolve, Harry hurried away from the window and into the bathroom where he took a quick shower before dressing in the burgundy robes once more.

He spent a few minutes applying a second treatment of the Hair Taming potion before rinsing his hair and combing it out so that it hung flat and checked for signs of black showing through his bleached roots – ever worried that his disguise would be discovered from an oversight on his part. Another minute was spent brushing his teeth and then he was out the door and lugging the suitcase of school supplies down to his office. He noted briefly, as he passed through the outer room of his quarters, that Dobby had finished cleaning the fireplace out and had left a fresh pile of logs in the grate.

Dropping the leather case down beside the desk, Harry took a moment to give the office a thorough cleaning with a couple of scouring charms to remove any cobwebs and the last traces of dust left from over a month of disuse. Next he set about cleaning out the desk, tossing out a black Alice band with a black bow and several scraps of moldy parchment before using a few cleaning charms on the wood to make it shine softly as the sunshine fell on it through the window. Satisfied that it was clean enough, he lifted the case onto the desk and opened it so he could start sorting through the contents.

The first thing he pulled out was three familiar books that he flipped through briefly as he read their titles. There was _'Dueling Techniques'_ by Baron Jacob Fritz, '_A Study of Defense Dueling'_ by F.S. Hilks, and '_The Most Common Dueling Mistakes'_ by Robert G. Jerrod. They were books that Harry remembered well, having studied them during his fifth year during DA meetings and during his sixth year under Professor Harrison – or under himself actually, which was a confusing concept to grasp.

Setting the books off to his left, he dug into the case once more and lifted out a thick stack of blank parchment that he put away in the top drawer along with several quills and two bottles of ink – one black and one red. He was just pulling out a leather bound day planner and calendar when someone knocked on his office door.

"Come in," He called out as he closed his case and rose from his seat.

"Good morning, James," Minerva greeted as she barreled into the room at the sound of his voice. "I'm glad to see you are settling in rather well."

"I'm trying, Minerva," Harry countered as he smiled and sat back down. "Won't you have a seat?"

"Thank you, no," Minerva declined, "I came to inform you that I will need a copy of the text book or books that you will be using for the fifth, sixth, and seventh years and to find out if you have the standard books available for the first through fourth years."

"Ah, yes, here are the books I'd hoped to use for the older students and I believe there are copies of the lower level course books on the shelf behind you – left over from previous years I presume."

"These are highly advanced books!" Minerva exclaimed as she picked up the books Harry had pointed out and checked the titles. "Are you sure these are appropriate choices?"

"I have used these same books myself when teaching private lessons to fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, and seventeen year olds. I find that they offer a wealth of accurate information and a wide range of different techniques as well as being a challenge to those who study from them." Harry explained, hedging the truth a bit as he referred to the undercover DA sessions as private lessons.

"Yes, I believe you are right, though Albus will have to give his approval before we add them to the book lists for the students," McGonagall relented as she tucked them firmly under her arm. "I'll return them in a few days. Is there anything you'll be needing?"

"Actually, yes, there is," Harry answered as he rose to his feet once more and walked around to stand beside McGonagall. "I'd like to get a copy of the student's records from the previous terms so that I can read through them before the term starts. I like to know where each student stands so I can best help them."

"I'll see that you get them before the end of the week," McGonagall stated without hesitation. "You will also be receiving a list of those students in the fifth, sixth, and seventh years that will be required to obtain a grade of 'Exceeds Expectations' or higher on their OWLs and NEWTs based upon their career choices."

"Wonderful."

"If that is all then," McGonagall added as she headed towards the door, "I'll see you at breakfast in the Great Hall in about an hour?"

"Of course," Harry agreed as he closed the door behind her and leaned back against it.

Checking his watch real quick, he figured he had about thirty or forty minutes before he had to head down to the Great Hall. Pushing himself away from the door he returned to the desk and opened his case once more and quickly finished emptying out the contents.

A thick roll of posters, several diagrams and charts, and a Foe Detector were set on top of the book shelf near the door – these were the items that would be hung up around the classroom later in the week. The day planner and a roll of lesson plans were locked into the bottom drawer of the desk where he could go through them when he had more time. Lastly he hung a heavy winter robe on the coat rack and hurried back up to his quarters to wash up before heading down to the Great Hall.

As he entered the large cavernous room, he was pleased to see that there were fewer staff present at such an early hour. All of the student house tables had been returned to their proper places and those who were present were breaking their fast up at the staff table. McGonagall waved to him as she caught sight of him entering before returning to the conversation she was having with Dumbledore.

Self consciously Harry trotted through the length of the room and hurried around to take his place on the other side of Dumbledore and was pleased to note that Snape's seat, which was directly next to his, was empty. Grinning happily he loaded his plate with bacon, sausages, buttered toast, scrambled eggs, and a thick slice of cooked ham. I_Just as delicious as I remembered_./I Harry thought to himself as he took a large bit of sausage and poured a tall chalice of pumpkin juice for himself.

"Good morning young, James," Dumbledore greeted warmly as the headmaster finished his conversation with McGonagall.

"'Morning, sir," Harry replied as he hastily swallowed the food in his mouth.

"Oh do call me Albus," Dumbledore insisted merrily. "It makes me feel old to be called 'sir' by one as young as yourself."

"If you insist, sir," Harry agreed – completely forgetting to address him as Albus.

Dumbledore chuckled and patted Harry on the shoulder with his left hand, which inadvertently drew Harry's attention to the withered right arm. It was a sharp reminder of what Harry knew would come at the end of the year and he felt his momentary happiness wilt away – taking his appetite as well.

"Is everything alright, James?" Dumbledore asked with concern.

"I'm fine," Harry replied automatically as he tried to give Dumbledore a smile. "I guess I'm just not quite awake as of yet. If you will excuse me, I think I will wander around the grounds for a while and get some fresh air."

Without waiting for a reply, Harry rose and left the table without a backwards glance, leaving behind his mostly untouched meal. As he walked, he couldn't help but question how he would manage to get through the year. Every time he turned around he was reminded of everything that he knew would happen over the coming years and it was very hard to keep from blurting out a warning to those around him. _How can they not see what is coming!?_ He wailed silently as he paused inside the courtyard and glanced up at the castle looming above him.

Disgruntled and feeling caught, he started walking once more and found his footsteps leading him towards the lake. A gentle breeze ruffled his hair as he watched the placid waters lapping gently at the sandy shore. Tucking his hands deep into the pockets of his robe, he stared out over the distance as he tried to shake off his inner turmoil. He had no idea how long he had been standing there when a ruckus at the edge of the Forbidden Forest shook him out of his musings.

Turning around, he caught sight of Hagrid leading a hippogriff through the fringes of the trees. Harry instantly recognized the creature, having spent a good deal of time in its presence and with a smile on his face he began walking towards Hagrid.

"Good day, James!" Hagrid cried out the moment he caught sight of Harry. "Beautiful day ain't it?"

"Morning, Hagrid, and yes it is a beautiful day," Harry returned as he trotted the last few steps and fell into step with Hagrid. "What a fine looking hippogriff you have there. Is he yours?"

"Yep, goes by the name oh Buck... I mean uh, Witherwings," Hagrid fumbled as he flushed in embarrassment.

"What a fine name, for such a fine fellow," Harry admired as he ignored Hagrid's slip. "Might I introduce myself to him?"

Hagrid nodded and Harry confidently approached the hippogriff before bowing deeply – making sure to maintain eye contact. There was a slight moment of concern when it looked as if Witherwings wasn't going to bow back, but he needn't have worried for the creature bowed regally a moment later. Harry happily stepped up to Witherwings and began scratching him right above the eyes.

"He looks even better from here, Hagrid, he certainly appears to be thriving under your care," Harry praised as he let his hand move lower so he was stroking the feathers just under the beak.

"Thank yeh; I've always been very fond of Bea... I mean Witherwings – he's kinda special to me," Hagrid beamed.

"I can see why," Harry murmured. "Well, I should be getting back to the castle now, have lots to do in preparation for the coming school year. Thank you for brightening my morning Hagrid, Witherwings."

Harry walked away feeling much better about his situation, and paused long enough to watch as Hagrid led the hippogriff off behind his hut. He smiled again as he resumed walking and felt his stomach rumbling as his appetite retuned. Swinging by the Great Hall, he discovered that breakfast has long since finished so he continued on down to the kitchens in hopes of grabbing something to keep him until lunch time.

After tickling the pair, Harry grabbed the handle and swung open the painting so he could step inside the homey kitchen that catered to the entire castle. Hundreds of eyes turned to watch Harry as he moved further inside the room and smiled at the closest elf.

"I was wondering if I might get a bite to eat, something small to hold me over until lunchtime." Harry informed the little elf.

Before he'd even finished speaking, several elves began passing him Danishes filled with strawberry jam and chocolate éclairs as well as a few sandwiches and cookies. In a matter of seconds, Harry's pockets had been well stocked and the elves escorted him to the door with promises of sending more food up to his office should he feel hungry.

The rest of the day, and the rest of the week, passed by fairly quickly and relatively uneventful for Harry as he finished setting up his office and reading through the lesson plans that had been left for him. Most of his meals during this time were taken either in his office or in his apartments, the exception being a few staff dinners where all of the professors gathered around a single table and discussed and reviewed school rules, scheduled nightly patrols for the first month of the school term, and decided who would supervise which meals.

Dumbledore also asked for opinions on the new Head Boy and Girl for the term, though for the most part everyone agreed to his choices without comment. There was also the matter of heightened security for the students during the evenings and on Hogsmeade weekends – Dumbledore informed them that they'd have Aurors lending a hand as needed.

Dumbledore approved Harry's book list and the owls carrying the students' yearly letters were sent out as orders were submitted to Flourish and Blotts to insure that the books would be in stock by the time students began purchasing supplies. McGonagall also provided the copy of student records she had promised the same time she returned his course books and with them was a list of those students who would need to obtain higher grades in order to enter their chosen profession.

During this time, Harry learned more about himself and the role he would be fulfilling during the coming school year. He made a diligent effort to be consistent when answering questions about his life and slowly began thinking of himself more and more as a Professor of Hogwarts as opposed to an Auror from the future. It made a big difference in how he reacted to the little things here and there and it helped to reduce his worries about being discovered.

The only low point during that first week he spent at Hogwarts was the night of his birthday. Once more he found himself thinking of everything and everyone he had left behind and wished there was someone he could talk to. He ended up locking himself up in his quarters and sending a request down to the elves for the evening meal and an extra helping of treacle tart and some chocolate cake. Harry then spent the evening transfiguring various objects into different animals before turning them back as he ate his cake and tart before making roads on his corned beef and cabbage that he'd requested.

Today found Harry standing in the middle of his classroom staring at the rows of student desks. It didn't take much for him to decide that they needed to be rearranged – or they'd not match his memories of his six year and the past would be changed. So, tucking his wand into his back pocket, he began manually shoving the desks around the Muggle way – enjoying the physical labor as it kept his mind off of his worries.

He had just moved the last desk into place when Mrs. Norris sauntered in followed by Argus Filch. The caretaker took one look at the newly positioned desk and flipped out.

"_What do you mean by this!?_" He yelled at Harry. "Can't you leave well enough alone? Don't I have enough work to be on about without you trashing the classrooms!?"

"I've only moved the desks out of the way, I'll need the extra room once lessons start," Harry explained in a soothing voice. His words only managed to anger Filch more.

"Only moved!? Have you no idea how long it's going to take me to put them back? There're no students here, why'd you have to go and destroy the place now?"

"Look, this is how the desks will remain during the school year. I need the open space, there will be no reason for you to have to return them to their original places," Harry countered more firmly as he watched Filch turn a nasty shade of purple that oddly reminded him of his uncle Vernon.

"We'll see about this!" Filch huffed as he stormed out of the room with Mrs. Norris hot on his heels.

Harry simply stared after the caretaker with a perplexed look on his face. He'd no idea that something as simple as moving the desks would create such a ruckus. Turning his attention back to the task at hand, he pulled out his wand and scoured the empty floor space that he'd created completely unaware that he was being watched until a voice startled him.

"That wasn't very nice of the ickle new, upstart professor," A singsong voice pointed out rudely.

Swinging around to face the door, Harry discovered the resident poltergeist hanging upside over the top of the door smirking with pleasure as his beady little eyes studies Harry.

"Peeves," Harry greeted warily, his feeling for the mischievous imp mixed.

"Oh-ho, clever upstart," Peeves cooed as he dropped down to hover just in front of Harry.

"What are you after here, Peeves?" Harry asked firmly in a soft voice that offered no threat or insult, he knew too well how Peeves responded to both.

"Nothin, Peeves is only looking for some fun," the poltergeist responded before zooming around Harry to hang from the chandelier.

"And what kind of fun, exactly, are you in search of today?"

"This," Peeves announced as he began to throw balloons filled with dragon dung at Harry with glee.

Harry nearly laughed at loud, he had been expecting something like this from Peeves, and was fully prepared for the onslaught. Waving his wand he quickly vanished the ones that were aimed at him while deflecting the others from hitting his charts that were sitting on the desk. Peeves, enjoying the small scale war, cackled loudly as he plucked the retuning balloons out of the air and doubled his efforts. This continued for several long minutes until McGonagall walked in followed by the irate caretaker and a gloating Snape.

"Peeves!" McGonagall snapped loudly.

Harry spun around at the sound of her voice and was rewarded with a dung balloon to the back of the head as Peeves dropped his stash of bombs and vanished, leaving Harry standing in the reeking pile of dragon waste.

"Afternoon, Minerva," Harry greeted with a dour expression as he vainly tried to clean up the mess.

"It is wiser to abstain from encouraging Peeves, he has been known to get carried away quite easily," McGonagall advised as the smallest of chuckles escaped from her.

"I hadn't expected him to be carrying such a well stocked supply of ammunition," Harry admitted with a wry grin. "I had hoped to teach him a lesson, but it seems he got the last laugh this time."

"Indeed," Snape sneered before McGonagall could reply.

"See, he's destroying the classroom! Throwing the desks around and letting that miscreant poltergeist wreck havoc!" Filch whined as he pointed a finger at dung covered Harry.

"There has been no lasting harm done, the room can be cleaned up and the desks are fine," McGonagall informed the crestfallen caretaker. "If Professor Harrison wishes to have the desks moved off to the side for his classes, so be it. As for Peeves, he's caused worse trouble then this before."

Filch threw Harry another angry glare before stalking off to pout while McGonagall led Snape out of the room. Harry stared after them for a few minutes before cleaning up the last of the mess with his wand. One whiff of his clothes, told him that he'd best go upstairs and clean up before heading down to supper that night – he'd not be very welcome smelling like fresh dragon dung.

It took nearly a week for the rest of the staff to stop talking about the ballooning incident in the Defense classroom and for Harry to stop blushing every time someone mentioned the word dung or dragon. Peeves, surprisingly enough, was no where to be found during that time.

With the student's arrival looming on the horizon, Dumbledore gave the staff a week off to relax before the real work began. Happy to have an excuse to get out of the castle for a few days, the majority of the staff flooed home or portkeyed to a favorite vacation spot. Harry, along with McGonagall, Dumbledore, Filch, Hagrid, Sybil and Snape, were the only ones left behind. Dumbledore and McGonagall had last minute preparations to make, while Snape and Filch chose to stay behind for reasons of their own. Hagrid and Sybil, like Harry, had no where to go – the castle was their home and they were happy to spend their time off pursuing their favorite leisure activities.

Harry though, felt lost again. There was nothing for him to focus his attention on and he found himself longing for his friends once more as he spent day after day either locked up in his apartment or wandering aimlessly around the castle and its grounds. Hagrid tried, unsuccessfully, to drag him out to Hogsmeade for a night out – but Harry worried he might spill something important if he allowed himself to drink. Hagrid had left a bit disappointed, but Harry knew it was for the best.

The two times Harry encountered Snape during this time left him with a foul taste in his mouth. The reformed Death Eater seemed to be going out of his way to make Harry's life just as miserable as the man had during his years at school. It was aggravating and Harry knew it was just a matter of time before things came to a head between them.

In an effort to relieve his boredom and growing frustration, Harry took out a subscription to the Daily Profit. The moment he received his first issue though, he immediately regretted his decision as he was forcefully reminded of the war that was still raging during this time. All over the headlines were tails of misery, death and despair – it was enough to make Harry sick as he read story after dreadful story.

It was on the last day of the short holiday that Dumbledore happened across him reading the latest issue of the newspaper while ranting about the needless death and destruction that was happening all over the country.

"If only there was some way to stop him sooner, wipe him out to prevent the needless slaughter," Harry ranted in a near silent voice.

"His madness is spreading rapidly, and we who fight against him are too few," Dumbledore stated as he stepped out of a painting off to Harry's left.

"What drives him though? After all this time, you'd think he'd grow tired of the killing and maiming," Harry pointed out a bit naively. "What made him the way he is? I never understood why he did the things he did."

"Only Voldemort knows why he does the things he does. We can only guess at his reasoning," Dumbledore countered. "I've noticed you've been preoccupied and ill at ease since you've arrived. Is there something amiss?"

"Yes and no," Harry replied evasively. "It's just that seeing everything around me destroyed for a second time is frustrating – knowing that there is nothing I can do to help change it."

Dumbledore gave him a piercing look at that and Harry cursed himself for being a fool as he wondered how much he'd just given away. The two of them stood there in silence for a few minutes before Dumbledore finally spoke. "One man may not make a difference all by himself, but together, with a hundred other individuals or more, he can fight for what he believes in and offer hope where there was none before."

"Where does one find a hundred others to stand beside when trust is such a fickle friend in times like these?" Harry demanded quite bitterly. "Where were those hundred fellow believers when my parents were murdered? When the woman I loved was cut down so cruelly before she had lived her life to the fullest?"

Dumbledore's eyes grew saddened as he listened to Harry's tirade and he made no reply as Harry stood with fists clenched and chest heaving.

"I'll tell you where they were," Harry ground out as he tried to control his growing anger. "They were dead. You want to know why? They were dead because the one that was meant to lead them into victory was dead. Hope dies. Love dies. And all that is left is the ashes of empty promises and regrets."

Harry tore his gaze away from Dumbledore's stunned face and closed his eyes as the pain overwhelmed him for a moment. Twelve years of bottled up emotions had finally found their way out as Harry faced the one man he thought would be there to guide him through to the end. It was too much for him and slowly, though his jumbled thoughts, he realized that he'd just made the biggest mistake yet. Kicking himself mentally, he gave Dumbledore a last rage and pain filled glance before he stormed off towards his quarters.

He didn't know how his anger had grown so out of control, it had been years since he'd felt such hatred. It was as if another person was living inside him and that person had taken over control of his thoughts. He was nearly to his classroom when the pain hit him. His scar – buried though it was under the make-up – erupted with a wave of pain unlike anything he'd felt since the war had ended in his time. Cupping his hands to his head, he sank to his feet as wave after wave of blind anger and pain washed through him.

He had no idea how long it lasted, but as the biting pain subsided into a throbbing ache, Harry found himself sick to his stomach. Retching where he knelt until his stomach had nothing left to bring up, he shuddered as tears poured from his eyes. It was then that he knew. The one flaw in the plans his unknown benefactor had created – Voldemort knew he was here. And, he had been the one to draw Voldemort's attention to himself. Through his anger, Voldemort had felt the connection that the two of them shared. For, even though Voldemort no longer existed in his time – he couldn't erase what they had shared during this time.

Staggering to his feet, he weakly flicked his wand to clean up the mess he'd made on the floor and stumbled forward until he reached his classroom. The stairs up to his office and quarters were more of a challenge in his weakened state though, and several times he tumbled down them only to force himself to keep going until he reached the landing right outside his apartments. There he collapsed into a heap as he lost consciousness.


	6. Lesson 4 – Table Manners

**DISCLAIMER:** _All HP characters are the property of JKR, the WB, and respective publishing companies - this is nothing more than a simple FanFiction that I have written. I have made no money from this or any of the other stories I have posted on this or other sites._

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**Lesson 4 – Table Manners**

When Harry next gained consciousness, it was to find himself lying on a bed in the hospital wing with Madam Pomfrey hovering over him with a worried expression. Standing next to her was an equally concerned Dumbledore, who looked vaguely troubled as he watched Harry gradually come to.

"Where am I?" Harry asked when he could get his voice to work.

"In the hospital ward at Hogwarts, James," Madam Pomfrey answered kindly as she began looking him over.

"How?"

"One of the house elves found you out cold outside of your quarters, scared the poor thing out of his wits," Pomfrey explained. "Gave us all quite a scare, truth be told. Do you recall anything that happened before passed out?"

"Nno..." Harry replied hesitantly before memories of his angry tirade at Dumbledore came rushing back. Groaning at his stupidity and lack of caution, he covered his face with his left hand and as it brushed across his forehead a burst of lingering pain reminded him that his scar had been hurting for the first time in years. Sitting up abruptly brought a wave of dizziness that nearly made him pass out a second time, but he forced himself to stay awake as he forced his eyes to meet Dumbledore's.

"Professor, I... there's..." He babbled a bit incoherently before trailing off, realizing that he could say nothing of his troubles to the man standing before him. Sighing, he allowed Pomfrey to push him back into the pillow before he tried speaking once more. "I'm sorry, Dumbledore, sir. There was really no call for me to say those things I said. I wasn't myself earlier. I'll understand if you wish me to pack my things and leave."

"It's already been forgotten, James," Dumbledore stated as he seated himself and leaned closer to Harry. "We have all said things we don't mean when we are angry. We wouldn't be completely human if we didn't have emotions."

"Still, I regret exploding like that. I haven't lost control of my anger in a long time – not like that."

"I understand," Dumbledore assured him. "Now, how are you feeling?"

"Like I have been thrown from a hippogriff and trampled by a heard of rampaging elephants. That and I have a killer headache."

"Ah, yes, that was quite a nasty bump you'd taken on your head."

"I must have tripped getting up the stairs a time or two, I really don't recall much about what happened after I stormed away," Harry said slowly, considering his ever word carefully.

"Will you feel up to attending the feast then?"

"Feast?" Harry asked. "What feast?"

"The Start of Term Feast," Dumbledore clarified. "It starts in two hours – the students will be arriving sometime shortly before then. Do you think you can manage?"

"Have I been out that long?" Harry cried in a near panic. "I think I'll be at the feast, if Madam Pomfrey lets me. But so long? It felt like just a few minutes to me."

Dumbledore's only response was a smile and a shake of his head, for there was no true answer to why time seemed to fly when you were unconscious. The headmaster left as Madam Pomfrey bustled over with several jars of potion which she promptly began administering to Harry while disregarding his protests.

Twenty minutes later found him gingerly climbing the stairs to his apartments, his ears still steaming slightly from the effects of the Pepper-Up potion that Madam Pomfrey had given him just before releasing him from the hospital. He still felt a bit weak and disoriented, but the majority of the pain was gone and the bruises he'd acquired during his numerous tumbles down the stairs were fading even as he walked.

Once through the doors, Harry made a bee-line to the bathroom where he ran the hot water for the shower while he studied his appearance in the mirrors that lined the bathroom. Critically he studied his hair and noted that the taming solution desperately needed a reapplication. His eyes were looking a bit bloodshot – the result of not being able to rinse them with the soothing solution to alleviate the aggravation caused by the contacts. What worried him the most though, was the tiny amount of black roots beginning to show against his scalp – proof that his hair had been steadily growing over the past few weeks. He knew he'd not have time to bleach them out again before the feast, but he'd have to get them taken care of before classes started.

Harry hopped into the shower and began washing up quickly; taking care to avoid scrubbing too roughly as there was still a lingering tenderness where his bruises had been. He washed his air and applied a generous amount of Sangramod's before shutting off the water and stepping out of the shower stall to dry off. While he let the taming potion work its magic on his usually unmanageable hair, Harry began dressing in his burgundy robes – pleased to find that they had been washed and freshly pressed during the time he'd been unconscious.

After buckling the belt into place he headed back into the bathroom to rinse and dry his hair. Another critical glance into the mirror confirmed that he looked presentable. Moving back into the bedroom, he picked up his old comfortable black Auror boots and set about polishing them with a few charms before slipping them on and stamping them down into place.

He checked the time and saw that he was going to be cutting it awful close if he didn't finish up quickly. Grabbing his wand he tucked it into a pocket as he hurried out of his quarters as fast as he could, still feeling a bit sluggish from his recent stay in the hospital ward. His trip down the short flight of stairs between his office and his apartments took him longer then expected though, with each step he felt himself growing lightheaded and slightly dizzy. Realizing that he was going to be late at the rate he was going, he decided to use an old short cut he remembered from his school days that would get him down to the ground floor faster.

Leaving the stairs, he cut across his office and headed down the corridor to the right until he reached the portrait of a young wizard dressed in somber black robes wearing an over-starched, pointed hat. Right next to the painting was an unlit torch that Harry took hold of, twisting it around until it was upside down, to trigger the release of the catch that swung the portrait open.

Returning the torch to the upright position, Harry slipped behind the painting and hurried inside. He moved down the short straight hall until it ended at a small ramp that he descended in relatively short time as he found it less demanding then the stairs he'd have had to take going the long way around. Once he was back on level ground, he turned to the left and moved forward until he reached a short flight of stairs that led to the ground floor and ended at a stone wall.

When he reached the wall, he lit the tip of his wand and used it to prod the stone block that sat level with his eyes, muttering a soft _Alohomora_ at the same time. The entire section of wall swung towards him with a soft groan to reveal the inside of a broom closet. Pulling the wall shut behind him as he stepped through, he cut the light from his wand and tripped over the handle of a mop as he opened the outside door to step into the brightly lit Entrance Hall.

Grinning he dusted off his robes and sauntered towards the Great Hall with a good eighteen minutes to spare. Using the shortcut had shaved nearly fifteen minutes off of the time it would have taken him to cover the same distance using the route from his classroom to the main stairs. He'd only moved a few feet away from the broom closet when he heard a mocking voice address him from behind.

"I find it remarkable that for a stranger to this castle, you manage to navigate it's halls with the ease of someone who's spent half their life behind these walls."

"No, you're mistaking my habit of getting lost for navigation skills," Harry insisted as he turned around and faced the speaker, completely unsurprised to find Snape sneering at him.

"Indeed?" Snape mocked with obvious disbelief. "I had forgotten how easy it is to confuse the broom closet with the entrance to the Great Hall.

"Ah, but you are assuming that it was the Great Hall I was looking for," Harry countered with a slight mocking tone of his own. "I was simply looking for the nearest restroom and found the broom closet by mistake. If you'll excuse me now, I'll continue my search."

Snape glared at him as he walked away, but Harry felt relieved that he'd managed to cover himself if not throw Snape completely off his trail. The pesky Slytherin was beginning to become a bigger annoyance then he'd been to Harry during Potions class. He took a minute to open a few extra doors as he moved in the general direction of the bathroom, hoping to give his story a bit of credibility, before coming to a stop in front of the boy's restroom. He made it a point to call out a quick 'Found it!' to Snape, who was still watching him, before disappearing inside for several minutes.

When he came back out he was a bit unnerved to see Snape still standing where he'd left him. Squaring his shoulders, Harry headed back towards the Great Hall as if he didn't have a care in the world. He nearly made it passed the stone faced professor, when he felt Snape grab hold of his arm and jerk him around.

"You may have fooled the others, but I know you are not who you say you are," Snape hissed. "I will find out the truth and when I do -"

Instinct took over the moment Harry had felt Snape take hold of his wand arm, the words pouring from Snape's mouth a dull hum in the back ground as he brought his left fist around and slugged Snape in the face. Snape then dropped his hold and grasped his now broken nose with both hands and Harry took advantage of the moment and whipped his wand out of his pocket and held it at the ready as Snape recovered and reached for his own wand.

"Leave it," Harry ordered in a deadly soft voice. "If you wish to attend the feast in one piece, I suggest you drop your hand."

Snape complied; he had no choice really, as Harry's wand was only a few scant inches from his face and the two of them were left at a bit of a stand off. Harry feared retaliation from Snape if he lowered his wand and tried to leave and Snape was simply waiting for a chance to get to his own wand.

"You have to lower your guard sometime," Snape taunted as they slowly began circling each other.

"I'm ready for you, just give me a reason," Harry spat back maneuvering himself so that Snape couldn't back him into a corner.

Snape moved his hand towards his wand and Harry half chanted the disarming spell when a swell of chattering voices swept through the room as the great doors burst open admitting a wave of excited students hurrying towards the Great Hall. Half disappointed that they had been interrupted Harry put his wand away and vanished into the sea of teenagers; leaving behind an irate and bloody Potions Master.

Unfortunately by the time Harry was able to get clear of the students and make his way to his seat, Snape was already seated. Narrowing his eyes, he flicked his eyes over to where Dumbledore was seated chatting happily with Professor Sprout and waving to the students that called out to him, before turning his gaze back to the still fuming Snape. Knowing that Snape would strike the moment he turned his back made Harry wary of taking his assigned seat at the staff table. Unfortunately he also knew that he had little choice in the matter and made his way to the table with trepidation.

As he reached the table, his eyes met Snape's for a split second and that one glance confirmed Harry's prediction of Snape's intentions. Breaking the connection, Harry worked his way around the table and slipped into his seat between Dumbledore and Snape. He held his breath as Snape shifted in his seat, but the Potions Master was simply shifting his seat a few inches over so that he wasn't quite so close to him. This suited Harry just fine and he released his breath as Dumbledore politely asked after his health.

"Feeling better, James?"

"Yes, sir, much," Harry replied as he flashed the headmaster a small grin. "A bit winded after from the trip down from my quarters, but it's nothing to be concerned about."

"Excellent," Dumbledore exclaimed. "I'm sure it's nothing that a good meal and a good night's sleep can't cure. Our new first years will be arriving shortly and once they've been sorted and seated we'll begin the feast."

Harry nodded his agreement as he let his eyes sweep through the noisy crowd of returning students seated below. A few seconds after registering Dumbledore's words, he realized that in order to keep up the appearance that he was unaware of Hogwarts' inner workings he'd have to pretend a little more ignorance.

"Er, sorting? Don't you assign them into houses before they begin?" he asked with furrowed brow as he turned his head slightly to give Dumbledore his attention.

"Goodness no," came the answer, "there is far too much we don't know about each individual student. We'd never be able to place them appropriately if we simply guessed or assigned random houses."

"How are they sorted? Do you test them?"

"In a matter of speaking," Dumbledore began explaining, "see each child is – ah, here they come. Watch and you will see what I mean."

McGonagall had entered the Great Hall before Dumbledore could finish his explanation, leading a string of shivering new students between the house tables. The chatter of noise from the older students died out as McGonagall reached the front dais and encouraged the newest students to spread out in a small semi-circle while she hurried to retrieve a stool and battered sorting hat from the staff entrance. Harry watched her with feigned curiosity as she situated the stool near the center of the grouped children before pulling out a large scroll with a list of names.

As she called the first student forward, Harry let himself get lost in his own memory of the night the hat sorted him into Gryffindor and he wondered if any of these young children faced a choice between being sorted into the house they wanted to be in and one they feared to be placed in. He wondered if any students had ever been unhappy with the house they ended up in and if they were ever allowed to be resorted into a new house.

A wave of sorrow passed over him as he thought of his friends but he quickly pushed it to the back of his mind, least become overwhelmed by his memories again. Reaching for his goblet of water, he lifted it to his mouth and took a large drink only to spit it back out as he tasted mud. Choking on the thick goo, he used his napkin to wipe his mouth and caught Snape smirking in a self satisfied manner beside him. Setting the cup back down and off to one side, he reached forward as if to pick up the pitcher of pumpkin juice and 'accidentally' knocked his goblet of water colored mud over and onto Snape's plate.

"I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention to what I was doing," Harry apologized in a voice filled with fake concern. "Did you need me to help you clean that up?"

"No," Snape growled as he used his wand to vanish the mixture from his plate, the tell-tale smirk now replaced by a scowl.

The whole incident had gone unnoticed by both the staff and the students due to the loud waves of applause that would break out as each student was sorted. Harry hid is own smirk as he scoured out his goblet and poured a fresh cup of water as he turned back in time to see the last student sorted into Ravenclaw. Shortly after the young girl took her seat, the talk died down a second time as Dumbledore rose to make his pre-feast speech.

"Welcome, new faces and old, to another year of learning and magic. Let us set aside our worries and fears as we share the wonderful food before us."

As Dumbledore sat back down the clattering sound of silverware and dishes rose as the students helped themselves to the food that had appeared before them. The tantalizing scents of a hundred different dishes filled the air and Harry reached forward to pick up a dinner roll from the plate in front of him, only to end up with a rock. Biting back a sigh, he immediately placed the transfigured item onto Snape's plate with a kind, "Here, you must try one of these." Somehow he just knew it was going to be a long silent war all through the meal.

Sure enough, Snape used non-verbal spells to charm, vanish, and transfigure the food and beverages that Harry attempted to consume. Harry in turn made it a point to become clumsy at the oddest moments, spilling food, drinks, and sometimes entire platters on Snape or Snape's plate. He also tried to be very considerate when it came to sharing the charmed and transfigured food, often times levitating the items onto Snape's plate with a non-verbal spell of his own.

Inevitably their not-quite-so-silent food war drew the attention of the students and a handful of staff members. Eventually the entire room was watching the two professors trying to eat and retaliate at the same time. It was Harry who got in the final strike though; he'd thought it all pretty much a game until Snape attacked the treacle tart Harry was eating. That was the final straw and Harry silently immobilized Snape with a well placed 'Petrificus Totalus' as the dishes were cleared of food and Dumbledore rose to gather the attention of the students once more.

"Now that we've all been fed and watered, I'd like to take this time to give out a few start of term notices. New students should be aware that the Forbidden Forest is strictly off limits to any and all students," Dumbledore stated. "I'd also like to inform all of you that the list of banned objects has nearly doubled this year, thanks to the delightful talents of Weasley's Wizarding Whizzes, you can find the entire list of objectionable items posted outside Mr. Filch's office and in the house common rooms. I'd also like to remind you that magic is not to be used in the corridors between classes.

"Lastly, I'd like to introduce you to this year's new professor of Defense against the Dark Arts classes. Please give a warm welcome to Professor James Harrison, former Dueling Instructor for Perth County."

Harry rose and gave a measured half bow as every eye turned to him and he felt a wave of déjà vu sweep over him as he caught sight of a familiar red headed boy leaning closer to whisper something to the boy sitting next to him. Sitting down quickly, he turned his eyes to the table in order to avoid catching a glimpse of his younger self joining in the conversation between a younger Hermione and Ron. It was enough to make him sick to his stomach as he recalled exactly what that conversation was about.

"_Dueling Instructor?" Ron had questioned as he leaned close to Hermione, all of their eyes trained on the young professor who was currently staring at the table in front of him. _

"_I didn't know there were private instructors to teach dueling – where did Dumbledore say he was from?" Harry had added curiously. _

"_Did you see the small battle he was having with Snape? How could anyone use food that way?" Ron added before Hermione answered Harry's question. _

"_Perth, it's a small county in southern Scotland, only a few hours north of the English boarder. I'm sure private tutors and instructors typically teach private lessons to the children of rich or pureblooded wizarding families. It's a common enough practice in other countries so I don't see why the Scottish purebloods wouldn't do the same."_

"_You think he'll be any good?" Ron wondered as they rose from the table and began heading towards the exit. _

"_He's bound to be better then that Umbridge monster isn't he?" Harry had quipped. "Any one is better than Umbridge, except maybe Snape."_

Harry was pulled out of his memories when Dumbledore gently shook his shoulder to get his attention. Looking around, the first thing he noticed was that all of the students had left the Great Hall in order to find their dormitories.

"Best let our friend up and be off to bed yourself, James," Dumbledore admonished, his eyes twinkling slightly as he indicated the still stiff Snape.

"Goodnight, Professor, sir," Harry called as he stood up and stretched out his muscles, discovering that the pain numbing potions that Pomfrey had given to him were wearing off. Dumbledore waved to him from the antechamber exit and Harry was left alone with Snape.

"Guess I'll have to let you up sometime won't I?" Harry demanded as he walked around to the front of the table and faced Snape. "I know you can hear me, so I'm only going to say this one time. Don't push me. I am not one of your students, I'll not allow you to bully me or get away with all those fancy little tricks you were trying to play during the feast. Next time, I won't be concerned about my table manners."

With that, Harry turned around and strolled down the length of the Great Hall pausing only briefly when he reached the door to release Snape from the full body bind he'd placed on him. Not wanting to give the irate Slytherin a chance to attack him from behind, Harry hurried back to the broom closet and opened the secret entrance at the back and disappeared inside before Snape could spot him. All the way back up to his rooms Harry wondered how he'd survive the growing struggle between himself and Snape. If something wasn't done they'd end up in a full scale war before Halloween.

Upon reaching his quarters, Harry simply crawled into bed without bothering to change – too tired and too sore to care. His last thought before sleep claimed him was that he'd not finished setting up his classroom due to being unconscious in the hospital since the night he passed out.


	7. Lesson 5 – Teaching Classes

**DISCLAIMER:** _All HP characters are the property of JKR, the WB, and respective publishing companies - this is nothing more than a simple FanFiction that I have written. I have made no money from this or any of the other stories I have posted on this or other sites._

_

* * *

_**Lesson 5 – Teaching Classes**

The next morning Harry was up and about early, his stomach tied in knots as he tried to get a few last minute preparations completed before he was due to teach his first class. Dobby was once again cleaning out the fireplace when Harry rushed through his outer room on his way down to his office. The diminutive elf squeaked out a rapid hello as Harry swept past without saying more then a muttered "Good morning, Dobby." in reply.

Harry halted just two steps down before turning around and leaning into his room to ask Dobby to have a light breakfast sent up to his office. Avoiding the morning rush in the Great Hall would give him more time to finish setting up his classroom.

A few heartbeats later he was opening the door to his office and absently dumping his dueling gloves onto the book shelf as he walked to his desk and sat down. The very next thing he did was pull out the lesson plans from the drawer and set them beside the stack of student records that McGonagall had given him earlier that summer. He riffled through the reports quickly to make certain none of them were missing, then he gathered them up along with the charts he still needed to hang, the lesson plans, and a new quill.

From there he hurried down the stairs and into his classroom only to drop everything he was carrying out of shock as he discovered that his classroom had been rearranged while he was out cold. He didn't know if it was Snape who undid all of Harry's efforts from the summer or if Filch had somehow managed to move them back, but it really didn't matter. Gathering up the papers and charts that were now scattered on the floor, he dumped the whole mess onto the classroom desk and pulled out his wand.

Several well placed banishing charms had the desks back to where he wanted them and Harry thanked Merlin he was born a wizard and not a Muggle - he'd never have had the desks all moved before the first class of the day if he'd had to do it by hand this time. Next he used a few good scouring charms to clear out the dust that had built up under the desk before conjuring a thick black rug to line the empty space between the groupings of desks.

He began hanging up a few of the charts after that but was interrupted by the arrival of his breakfast. Grabbing a piece of bacon, he sat down on the edge of the desk and began the tedious job of reorganizing the papers that he'd dropped while he ate. By the time he'd finished sorting the paper he only had a few minutes left before class started and began to finish hanging the rest of the charts when he discovered that he'd left the text books up in his office.

So it was back up the stairs to grab all six of the books, he'd forgotten which years he would be teaching today, and back down to the classroom where he dumped them into the bottom drawer of the desk. Praying he hadn't forgotten anything else, Harry grabbed the charts once more and began applying temporary sticking charms to their backs as he levitated them up onto the walls.

Caught up in what he was doing, he didn't see or hear the door open as students slowly began trickling inside the classroom. He kept backing up a few steps at a time as he adjusted the charts so that they'd sit just at the right height. Just as he thought he might have it right where he wanted it, he backed into someone and heard them crash to the floor. Startled, Harry wiped around and immediately began helping one student back to his feet when he found himself face to face with his younger self helping Hermione back to her feet.

It was like seeing a ghost for the first time, standing there staring at the face he'd seen reflected in the mirror almost all of his life. Inevitably he found his eyes drawn to his own scar before getting caught up in the suspicious glare that his younger self was directing at him. Time seemed to stand still as he watched the younger Harry push past him to help Ron up onto his feet – never taking his eyes from his younger self as the blood drained from his face.

It wasn't until the rest of the students began shuffling their feet and muttering to themselves, that Harry was able to gather his thoughts and snap back to reality. Turning his back on the young Harry and his friends, he quickly addressed the entire class.

"Please take a moment to locate your assigned seat and be seated." Harry ordered before returning to his desk and picking the chart he'd been trying to hang up off the floor, listening to the muttering and mumbling students taking their seats.

"Assigned seats? We've never had assigned seats before."

"Why do I have to sit next to her? I wanted to sit next to Terry."

"This is stupid, why do they get to sit together while we don't?"

"Good morning class," Harry called out loudly, drawing the eyes of the entire class. "You are in this class to learn how to defend yourself, not from your friends, but from your enemies. This class is not a picnic; this class will stretch your abilities to their limits, test your reflexes, and sharpen your skills. Our main focus will be to learn the many different ways of engaging an enemy or rival in a duel, how to use your surroundings to your advantage, and how to use a wide range of simple hexes to efficiently take out your opponent. I will also be teaching you how to cast non-verbal spells as well as a few other useful skills."

Looking around the class he noticed the wide range of expressions on the student's watching him, a good many of them curious, a few uncertain, several skeptical, and one or two confused. It reminded him of his fifth year, when he taught defensive spells to the DA members behind Umbridge's back, and it brought a smile to his face as he stared out at the sea watching students.

"We will start, by reading chapter seven in 'A Study of Defensive Dueling' and chapter two of 'The Most Common Dueling Mistakes'," Harry instructed. He watched them dig through their bags and pull out their books while exchanging significant glances. He happened to catch Hermione's hand rising out of the corner of his vision and couldn't help but add, "No Ms. Granger, I am not skipping any vital information in either book – though it may at first seem illogical to start in a place other then the beginning."

Harry knew that Hermione was caught off guard by answering her unspoken question, but he couldn't help himself – he'd already known how she would react to his instructions. Knowing that the majority of the class would be occupied for a good twenty minutes, he took a moment and hung up the charts he'd dropped earlier as well as two more. Next he paced down the length of black carpet, counting off the number of paces between his desk and the end of the rug.

Twice more he measured the distance of the rug, sparing only the occasional glance towards the frequent sounds of turning pages as the students read. He made it a point not to look in the direction of himself and his friends though – not certain if he could truly deal with the knowledge that he was teaching himself what he'd needed to know in order to defeat Voldemort all those years ago – or rather in about four years from now.

_How did I get myself into this mess?_ Harry demanded of himself as he stopped his pacing and stared blankly off in the direction of the classroom door. Once more he considered leaving, his self doubts rising up to choke him as the predicament of his current position came back to haunt him again. At the same time Harry became angry with himself for showing weakness. Squaring his shoulders in determination, he strode up to his desk and leaned against it as he forced himself to survey the entire class. Twenty-two minutes passed by before all of the students had finished reading and it was the moment that Harry had been waiting for.

"Now, can one of you tell me how the two chapters relate to one another?" Harry asked after clearing his throat.

Hermione's hand shot up first, though it was quickly followed by the hands of two Ravenclaws. Harry hesitated for a brief moment, wondering if he should show favoritism to Hermione or if he should ignore her and pick one of the Ravenclaws. Remembering Snape's treatment of his friend helped him to decide.

"Ms. Granger," Harry called.

"Both chapters list the common mistakes that occur during a duel," Hermione answered without hesitation. "However, the list in 'A Study of Defensive Dueling' is only half the size of the one in 'The Most Common Dueling Mistakes'. The former also gives several ways to avoid making those mistakes while the latter just describes each mistake in detail."

"Very good," Harry complimented, "Five points to Gryffindor. Does any one have any thing else to add to Ms. Granger's answer? No, how about a brief demonstration then, Ms. Brocklehurst will you step up to the rug please?"

The timid Ravenclaw quickly slipped out of her seat and stepped onto the end of the rug clutching her wand nervously as she watched her professor. Harry gave her a brief smile of encouragement as he walked up to her and explained in a soft voice what he wanted her to do. When he finished he straightened up to address the rest of the class.

"We're going to demonstrate the common mistake of holding your position," Harry informed the curious faces. "Ready Ms. Brocklehurst?"

When she nodded and the two of them half bowed to each other before Harry sent a simple tickling charm at the young student. She quickly blocked the jinx and countered with the disarming spell, which Harry allowed to hit him. His wand flew up into the air and arched gracefully before falling to the ground near the Ravenclaw's feet.

"If I had been battling a Death Eater I would have been a dead man," Harry pointed out to the class as he walked forward to gather up his wand. "Thank you Ms. Brocklehurst, you may take your seat. Five points to Ravenclaw for a well cast Expelliarmus." The young lady blushed at the compliment and returned to her seat as Harry asked for a volunteer this time. "Who'd like to help me finish the demonstration? Any one? No one wants to have the honors? Ok, I guess I'll just pick someone than, Mr. Weasley step up to the floor please."

Ron looked sick as he reluctantly left his seat and approached the older Harry, his knuckles white from gripping his wand tightly.

"Relax Mr. Weasley," Harry soothed when he saw how nervous Ron looked. "We're simply going to run through the same series of spells. I'd like everyone else to pay special attention to how I react after I am hit with the disarming spell."

Harry waited until Ron said he was ready and the two of them bowed before Harry once more sent a tickling charm towards Ron and watched as Ron blocked the jinx and sent the disarming spell at him. Once more he stood still and allowed the spell to knock him slightly back as his wand was yanked out of his hand. This time he didn't stand and watch the wand's path though, the moment he lost hold of his wand he dove sideways and dashed the length of the carpet completely unnoticed by Ron who was watching the flight of the wand. It wasn't until Harry snatched the wand out of the air right in front of Ron that his young friend noticed him and jumped back while giving voice to a startled yelp.

"Wonderful," Harry announced as he smiled at the shaken Ron. "You even demonstrated another of the most common mistakes in dueling, five Points to Gryffindor. Take your seat R... Mr. Weasley. Can any one tell me what mistake Mr. Weasley made? Mr. Boot?"

"He failed to keep his eye on his opponent – he allowed his attention to follow the wand instead of you." Terry replied confidently.

"Correct, five points to Ravenclaw," Harry acknowledged. "We've only a few minutes left of class and I'd like you to spend that time practicing your disarming charms. When we next meet we'll be pairing off to work on countering the two most common mistakes in dueling; standing rooted in one spot and allowing your attention to waver from your opponent."

Harry moved back out of the way as all of the students climbed to their feet and began practicing the disarming spell. He kept well back out of the way, only stepping forward to correct a wand movement or to give small pointers for casting a stronger charm. When the bell rang to signal the end of class Harry dismissed the students reminding them to practice the spell in preparation for their next class and to think of ways to recover from the two mistakes.

When the last student was gone, Harry sank down into the chair behind his desk and ran a shaking hand over his face – thankful that the hardest class was over. In his mind nothing could come as close to being as hard as coming face to face with himself. He was certain that the rest of the classes should be a piece of cake; he wouldn't discover just how wrong he was until later that afternoon.

Harry's next class was a breeze, as he taught basic defense to timid first years – introducing them to the simplest of concepts of fighting dark magic and creatures. Instead of sitting at the desks, Harry had them all seated on the rug up close to his desk as he covered the day's lesson. The lesson had gone so well that he lost track of time and before he realized it the bell rang signaling an end to the lesson. He assigned a simple reading for their homework and locked up the classroom so he could take lunch up in his office as he prepared for his afternoon classes.

McGonagall stopped by on her way down to the Great Hall to see how Harry's first day was going and gave him a vote of confidence before hurrying on her way. He was also visited by Professor Flitwick and Dumbledore towards the end of the lunch period – both wanting to make sure his first day was running smoothly and drag out a promise from him to sit with them for supper in the Great Hall.

When the bell rang for the first of the afternoon classes, Harry hurried down to the classroom and unlocked the door to let in the waiting students – who happened to be the sixth year Hufflepuffs and Slytherins. Having already taught the other half of their year, he fell right into the lesson without any of the nervousness he'd experienced during the morning session. The only low point was dealing with his old nemesis – Draco Malfoy – who seemed to be determined to test the boundaries of Harry's authority from day one.

"Mr. Malfoy – if you can not control yourself you will find yourself in Mr. Filch's company for the next week scrubbing the halls of Hogwarts without magic," Harry snapped out at one point when Draco had 'accidentally' hit Hannah Abbot with the stinging hex.

By the end of the class period, Harry had more respect for those teachers that had had to put up with Malfoy for all seven years as opposed to the one that he was going to have to deal with. He was sitting back at his desk rubbing his temples in order to relieve the agony of the headache that was forming when his last class of the day began trickling into the classroom.

"Please take a moment to locate your assigned seat and we'll begin the lesson in just a minute," Harry instructed without looking up. He took a minute to check the lesson plans for the fifth years and was happy to see that they'd be covering a variety of jinxes and counter jinxes during the first several weeks in preparation of the coming O.W.L.s at the end of the year. Knowing that he was expected to give a short speech about the importance of the O.W.L.s, he rose to his feet and moved around to the front of his desk and leaned back against it as he started the short speech that had been written for him.

"As you are aware you will be sitting down to take your Ordinary Wizarding Level exams at the end of the term. It is important that you take these exams seriously as they will affect what careers you can apply for later in life. They seem like a long way off, but before you know it you'll be facing an examiner and be required to perform a wide range of spells while nervous," Harry informed them. "But don't let that scare you; we do have plenty of time to prepare you for that ordeal providing you study and practice your wand work during the next several months."

He let that sink in a bit before continuing, "That said, let's take a look at the number of jinxes and hexes that you have learned during the four years you've been coming to Hogwarts. Make a list of them from easiest to hardest, placing the ones you think are your best spells at the top and the ones you can perform but find difficult at the bottom."

He watched as they scrambled to take out quills and parchment in order to do the assignment, smiling inside as he listened to the many groans and mutterings that always accompanied a written assignment. He was pacing the rug once more when he caught sight of a single face that stopped him in his tracks.

It was _her_. Long red hair tied up in a messy ponytail, laughing brown eyes, ready smile, and an elusive flowery scent that Harry recalled fondly. A smile was curling up the edges of his lips before reality came crashing down and the familiar feelings of anger and remorse froze his heart and tears filled his eyes. _Ginny_, Harry's mind screamed at him in a heartbroken wail. _Oh, Ginny, my sweet love_.

Searing pain cut through Harry's scar as he tore his eyes away from Ginny's face and he felt a wave of sickness as the familiar feeling of Voldemort's emotions poured through the renewed connection they shared. Only the thought of the watching students kept him from passing out once more from the sheer shock of seeing her alive once more – after fives years of trying to come to terms with her death, it was almost more then he could bare and certainly ten times harder to accept than having to teach his younger self.

_How could I have forgotten that Ginny would be here?_ Harry cried out silently as he shakily took his seat. _I wasn't prepared for this!_

"Professor Harrison?" Ginny inquired, her voice like music to his ears.

"Yes?" Harry gasped out hoarsely in response.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes I'm fine, continue with the lesson please," Harry answered evasively, making an effort to pull his thoughts together.

The remainder of the lesson was spent going over the different types of spells that the students had listed and practicing some of the ones that the students had the most trouble with. Harry only half paid attention to what they were doing though, as he sat brooding over past memories and continued to fright for control of his emotions.

It seemed to take a lifetime for that final bell to ring, and when it did Harry gratefully ushered the students out and locked up the classroom before taking the stairs up to his office. He spent only a minute locking up his lesson plans before continuing up to his rooms where he ran a hot bath while he watched the steam billowing up and out.

Without quite realizing how, he found himself standing in the middle of the small pool, fully dressed with tears pouring down his face. It was the first time he'd cried over Ginny's death since they'd laid her to rest under a willow tree out back behind the Burrow. For five long years he kept his memories of her buried in the back of his mind where he could avoid the pain of her loss. Seeing her again, knowing what her future would hold – it was like losing her all over again.

"I quit," Harry rasped painfully as he stared up at the ceiling. "I can't do this; I can't watch her over the next year knowing that she'll be murdered again. How can you ask me to stand aside and watch her life end a second time?"

As if his words had been heard, an owl fluttered through the steam to land at the edge of the bathtub – a thin slip of parchment clasped tightly in its beak. Harry stared at it for a long time before he waded over and carefully accepted the note, holding it gingerly as he unrolled it to avoid getting it wet and marring in the ink.

_Love does not truly die; it lives on inside our hearts,  
offering comfort when we feel lost or alone. When the one  
we love is torn so cruelly from our side it is difficult to  
face the emptiness that fills our future for as far as the  
eye can see. _

_Nothing can replace what has been lost, nothing can  
compare to a love so true. Yet, over the gathering years  
we can draw comfort from the fact that the one we loved  
is not forgotten. She lives on in your heart and in the  
thoughts of those who knew her. _

_One day you will find comfort in the knowledge that the  
two of you shared something special. That for one brief  
moment in time the two of you had one another and the  
opportunity to give your love to each other. _

_A friend_

The words offered more comfort then Harry thought they would and after carefully setting them up where they'd be safe, Harry shed his wet clothes and climbed back into the still warm bath and lay back with his eyes closed as he stopped trying to fight his grief and just let himself go as he let wave after wave of memories wash over him. Later, he'd make his apologies to Dumbledore and Flitwick for missing supper, but for now he needed time alone.


	8. Lesson 6 – Controlling Emotions

**DISCLAIMER:** _All HP characters are the property of JKR, the WB, and respective publishing companies - this is nothing more than a simple FanFiction that I have written. I have made no money from this or any of the other stories I have posted on this or other sites._

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_**Lesson 6 – Controlling Emotions**

The rest of September and all of October passed in a blur of lessons and a swirl of colors as the fall season moved ever closer to winter. Harry did his best to put his past behind him as he threw himself into the lessons he was teaching. He was quite pleased with the progress his fifth, sixth, and seventh year classes were making while the younger years were a calming change from the fast paced dueling that the older students were learning.

The only hitch in Harry's new daily routine was the growing battle of wills between Snape and himself. The handful of meals that the two shared in the Great Hall were fraught with tension and whispered threats. Staff meetings became absolute nightmares as Snape argued with any idea that Harry put forward regarding the safety of the students or the scheduling of special events such as Hogsmeade visits. Only the presence of students kept the two of them from continuing their duel of the first night when they passed each other in the corridors between classes and meals.

They could only avoid the issue for so long though, and on the afternoon of the day before Halloween their ongoing battle evolved into all out war. Harry was in the middle of moderating a mock duel between two seventh year Ravenclaws when Snape burst into the room disrupting the entire class. Harry's patience with the overbearing Slytherin snapped and he strode over to his former professor and addressed him in an angry whisper.

"What do you want?"

"I wanted to speak with you about the grades of a couple of the Sixth year Slytherins." Snape drawled loudly enough for the curious students to hear.

"Now is not the time nor is it the place," Harry practically hissed. "If you wish to discuss the grades of a student then send me an owl and I'll schedule you in on an evening when I feel that I can stomach your presence for more then two seconds."

"Temper, temper," Snape chided just as loudly as before, "I simply wished to question the honesty of the grades you've been giving to several of my students."

"Ah, you'll be referring to the failing marks of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle than," Harry stated, matching Snape's tone and volume when it became apparent that the man didn't want to keep the conversation private.

"So you admit to grading their assignments unfairly," Snape accused.

"No, I have not sunk to your level where grades are concerned," Harry countered. "Nor do I tolerate the attempts of Malfoy to buy a better grade when his abilities proved to fall short of his peers. He has also refused to turn in a single written assignment since the beginning of the term. It wouldn't be very professional of me to show favoritism to one House, now would it, Snivellus?"

"What did you call me?" Snape demanded as his face paled at the use of the cruel nickname.

"Go back to your dungeons Snape, if you have a valid concern over the marks of those students in your house that are failing I'd be more then happy to send you a copy of my class records and take the matter before McGonagall for resolution."

"_Where did you hear that name?_" Snape roared, completely disregarding the rest of Harry's words.

Harry ignored Snape, knowing that it would be futile trying to reason with the man after accidentally letting the nickname slip out. He half turned away from the Potions Master to face the students, all of whom were watching with varying degrees of interest, fear, anger, and concern. Snape wasn't going to drop the matter so easily though, he grabbed hold of Harry, spun him back around, and dragged him closer until the two of them were standing nose to nose. This was the wrong thing to do and like the first time Snape grabbed him, Harry's temper exploded.

Harry punched him low in the gut and was rewarded with a blast of foul air in his face as Snape's breath was knocked from him. Snape refused to let go of Harry, though he now only had hold of Harry's robe and not Harry's arm. The move allowed Harry enough time to send the students running out of the room to safety. Unfortunately that gave Snape enough time to recover and when Harry turned his attention back to him, it was to find a sneering Snape with wand in hand.

"This time I have the upper hand," Snape crowed triumphantly. "Now, where did you hear the name Snivellus? Who told you to call me that!?"

"Drop your wand Snape," Harry ordered completely ignoring Snape's questions for the second time.

"_Answer me!_" Snape yelled back.

Harry narrowed his eyes and did the only thing he could, he stomped down on the instep of Snape's foot with his Auror boots and shoved Snape backwards with both hands. Snape, caught off guard, stumbled backwards and into the nearest row of desks giving Harry time to pull out his own wand. He watched Snape climb back to his feet, never letting his attention waver, not wanting to give Snape an opportunity to catch him napping a second time.

"I will get answers from you," Snape threatened. "One way or another, you will tell me what I want to know."

"Don't flatter yourself," Harry shot back. "You're nothing more then a delusional, embittered, pathetic excuse of a washed up has been. I've met Flobberworms that inspire more respect and fear then you ever could!"

"_Who are you!?_" Snape roared, his face turning an unsightly shade of red.

Harry simply flashed him a smile in response, a mocking sort of smile that drove Snape over the edge. Harry had expected the reaction he got and was prepared as Snape rushed forward casting an unspoken curse at Harry. Harry ducked under the scorching blast of angry red light and shot a stinging hex at Snape in retaliation, following it with the tickling charm without missing a beat.

Snape blocked both spells and tried to stun Harry in return, but Harry was no longer standing in his line of fire. The moment Harry had fired his two spells; he'd rolled off to the left half out of sight while Snape deflected his jinxes. Snape had only barely kept track of Harry's movements and the result was a poorly aimed spell.

Back and forth the two of them danced in a battle was that quickly becoming deadly as desks exploded right and left from blocked and overshot spells. Harry felt sweat dripping down the side of his face and back as he shielded and dodged each spell that was sent his way. Casting his own attacks with careful precision that kept Snape guessing as to what he'd do next.

They were both completely unaware of the growing audience that was gathering just outside the open classroom door as students pushed and shoved at each other in an effort to witness the duel taking place inside. Until a stray spell shattered the door and the students were sent fleeing as smoke billowed out of the room in huge clouds.

Inside, Snape and Harry were both coughing as they tried to see each other through the thick black smoke. Snape used his wand to vanish the offending cloud to find himself face to face with Harry once more. Before Harry could react to the sudden reappearance of Snape, the Slytherin fired a single spell while they maintained eye contact - _Legilimens_.

Memories exploded inside of Harry's head; he was standing at his kitchen table staring at a white owl while holding a piece of parchment in a shaky hand, he was holding a timeturner in his hand as a shadow passed across his vision, a flash of the directions from the back of the taming potion's bottle, Ginny's face as she was laid to rest in her coffin, and just a brief glimpse of Dumbledore's body as it lay where it had fallen the night he'd seen Snape murder the Headmaster up in the tower.

It was the glimpses of Ginny and Dumbledore that shook Harry into counteracting Snape's intrusion into his mind and he flung the man out and away from him using the disarming spell. What he would have done next is uncertain for at that moment that both McGonagall and Dumbledore burst into the room with wands drawn in hopes of putting an end to the battle that they had learned was taking place.

Harry watched them silently through the tears of anger and grief that filled his eyes, not moving a muscle as they quickly righted the room and checked over the unconscious Snape. Dumbledore's face, what Harry could see of it, was blazing with anger and the only comforting thought Harry had, was that Snape had started the fight, not him. Wordlessly, Harry followed the Headmaster as he led the way out of the room with McGonagall following as she transported the unconscious Snape.

Gasps could be heard spreading throughout the crowd as students caught sight of the Potions Master being levitated by on a stretcher. Hearing the flurry of shocked whispers that followed triggered Harry's own memory of his reaction the day he'd witnessed this event from the sidelines.

"_Professor Snape's attacking Professor Harrison inside the Defense classroom!" A distraught Katie Bell had cried as she rushed through the halls and into Professor McGonagall's classroom where the sixth year Gryffindors had been practicing vanishing simple objects. _

_McGonagall had instructed the students to stay where they were as she followed Katie out of the room. Hermione and Ron had exchanged looks with him before the three of them darted after the quickly disappearing back of McGonagall's green robes – the rest of the class following them. They arrived just as the door exploded and waves of black smoke billowed out of the room sending the students crowded around the door scattering. _

"_Who do you thinks winning?" Ron inquired as he craned his head in order to see inside the classroom. _

"_Ron!?" Hermione admonished. _

"_Why do you think they were fighting in the first place?" Harry cut in, hoping to prevent an argument from starting. _

"_Snape accused Harrison of purposely failing Malfoy and a bunch of other Slytherins," A seventh year Ravenclaw informed them as he pushed past Harry to get clear of the smoke._

"_Then Professor Harrison called Professor Snape a name we couldn't hear and Snape freaked out," Cho Chang added softly from where she stood with her friends._

"_You should have seen them dueling," __Cormac__McLaggen, a seventh year Gryffindor, exclaimed, his face alight with glee. "Professor Harrison was just playing with Snape, egging the greasy git on and whupping him soundly."_

"_Until Professor Snape used that last spell," Cho clarified. _

"_What spell did he use?" Harry asked as he watched Professor Harrison disappear around the corner with Professor Dumbledore. _

"_Leggilamens," Cormac answered, "or something like that. I'd never heard it used before."_

_Harry exchanged another meaningful glance with Ron and Hermione after hearing McLaggen's response. They knew exactly what spell Snape had used on their Defense against the Dark Arts Professor. Snape had been reading Professor Harrison's mind, or at least trying to read his mind._

"Droobles," Dumbledore commanded as he slowed to a stop in front of the gargoyle that guarded the entrance that led to his office. The sound of his voice drawing Harry out of his memories and back to the matter at hand.

Harry watched as Professor Dumbledore stepped onto the revealed staircase and began ascending the steps. For a brief moment, Harry felt an overwhelming desire to turn and leave. So great was his feelings of guilt and remorse over his behavior that he felt he'd somehow broken Professor Dumbledore's trust.

Sighing dejectedly, he shoved aside all thoughts of running and slowly began following Dumbledore; pushing the lingering rage he felt coursing through him into some semblance of order. When he reached the top of the stairs and pushed through the door and into the Headmaster's office, Harry found Dumbledore already seated with his hands clasped before him, and an unreadable expression on his face. The absence of the merry twinkle that usually could be found in Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes the only sign that this was not going to be a pleasant visit.

Hesitantly Harry moved deeper into the office until he stood just a few feet in front of Dumbledore's desk, subconsciously tucking his hands deeply into his robes and hunching his shoulders while focusing on the edge of the desk so as to avoid meeting Dumbledore's gaze. Unknowingly assuming a stance he'd often used when he was attending school at Hogwarts and been called before the headmaster to explain himself.

The silence lengthened as Dumbledore stared at Harry and Harry stared at the desk, neither one of them attempting to start a conversation as they waited for something to happen. That something was the appearance of an irate Professor McGonagall with news of Professor Snape's condition.

"Severus will be fine," McGonagall announced as she swept around the desk to stand beside Dumbledore, her nostrils flaring in anger. "Madam Pomfrey assured me that he has just been knocked unconscious."

"Thank you, Minerva," Dumbledore murmured.

"What have you to say, Mr. Harrison, about your part in this fiasco?" Professor McGonagall demanded as she finally turned her attention to Harry.

Harry allowed his gaze to rise enough to look from McGonagall's angry face to Dumbledore's unreadable one before letting it slip back to focus on the desk once more. Desperately he wished he could pour out the truth to the both of them, even though he knew that that would be nearly impossible due to the effects of the Fidelius Charm. He hated lying about his identity though and it was on the tip of his tongue to confess the truth, when Aries fluttered in through the open door and dropped down onto his shoulder carrying a note clamped tightly in his beak. Relieving his owl of its burden, he stroked its beak once before opening the note and quickly reading through it.

_Your actions must not dictate your reactions. PJH ~ HJP_

Puzzled, Harry flipped the note over looking for something more when the note burst into flames causing him to drop it before he was burned. If Dumbledore and McGonagall thought his actions odd, they gave no mention of it as they waited for Harry to explain himself.


	9. Lesson 7 – How to Tell the Truth

**DISCLAIMER:** _All HP characters are the property of JKR, the WB, and respective publishing companies - this is nothing more than a simple FanFiction that I have written. I have made no money from this or any of the other stories I have posted on this or other sites._

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**Lesson 7 – How to Tell the Truth while Keeping Secrets**

McGonagall opened her mouth as if to voice her demands a second time but was stopped by Dumbledore raising his hand to silence her, the movement catching Harry's attention out of the corner of his vision. Not knowing what to say, Harry kept his mouth closed - the words of the note resting heavily in his thoughts as he watched the ashes sifting in a nonexistent breeze.

"James?" Dumbledore softly called an unspoken question hovering on the tip of his tongue.

Harry closed his eyes and shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably as he desperately grabbed at a barest thread of thoughts in an effort to explain his actions. "I was only defending myself," he began slowly, each word a seeming effort. "Snape accused me of purposely altering the grades of certain... students and he disregarded my request to handle it outside of the classroom. My only thoughts were to protect the children once the man allowed his anger to cloud his judgment. There was no reasoning with him, and I did try, though in retrospect I should not have goaded him in response to his unfounded accusations. It was irresponsible of me to sink down to his level and for that I apologize. But I will not apologize for protecting myself from yet another of his attacks and his vile attempt to force his way into my mind."

By the time Harry finished speaking his was trembling once more with rage and repressed grief as he glanced up and met Dumbledore's gaze for the first time since walking into the room. He was surprised to see concern and confusion mingling in the Headmaster's eyes and an uncertain frown on McGonagall's face.

"How..?" McGonagall began, only to fall silent.

"Today was not the first time that man has attacked me," Harry added tightly. "I suspect that it will not be the last time either."

"What ever do you mean?" Dumbledore asked a bit sharply.

"Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater – it doesn't matter what face he presents to the world, he can not hide the evil in his heart," Harry spat.

"Did he tell you that?" Dumbledore demanded his face stone-like.

"No," Harry barked out with a mirthless laugh. He knew he was saying too much, but he couldn't help it as his anger over-rode his common sense and took control of his tongue. "I've known the truth about that _man_ for many years."

Silence fell over the room once more as Harry sat staring Dumbledore down, his breathing ragged as he struggled to get a grip on his emotions. It was some time before he calmed down enough to realize that he'd tripped up again in keeping his true identity a secret and as he tore his eyes away from Dumbledore's piercing gaze his knees buckled and he would have fallen to the floor if not for McGonagall quickly conjuring a chair for him.

"The man knows just how to get under my skin," Harry whispered as he sat slumped with his face in his hands, feeling defeated. "I will hand in my resignation and pack up my belongings."

"I do not recall asking for you to resign from your position, nor do I recall demanding you leave at once," Dumbledore chided gently. "It is disturbing that a disagreement between two adults would come to blows with so little regard to the safety of the students, though I did note that you had made an attempt. The matter will be investigated further and if it is discovered that such behavior occurs again, I might have no choice but to remove one, or both, of you from this school in order to protect the children."

"It will not happen again, sir," Harry promised lifting his eyes once more.

Harry was dismissed shortly after that and as he walked through the halls back towards his office, he couldn't help but wonder just how much Dumbledore actually knew and if the wise old wizard had any inkling of who Harry really was. It was a sobering thought and Harry vowed he'd guard against future slips that might lead to his discovery.

* * *

After leaving the Headmaster's Office, Harry came to the conclusion that it would be best if he locked himself away in his quarters during the hours when he was not actively teaching classes. He knew that rumors would be circulating through the castle about the duel and that many people would want to ask him questions that he might not be able to answer. So, logically, he fully intended to avoid the rest of the staff members and students outside of the classroom while he worried over their various feelings and reactions to the duel that had taken place between him and Snape. The Halloween feast came and went though Harry didn't attend due to the fact that Snape had recovered that same morning - Harry just couldn't bring himself to face the man so soon after their battle.

Early on the following Monday morning, before classes began; a man from the Ministry stopped by and spent an hour with Harry discussing the incident. He took notes on Harry's side of the story, weighed and measured Harry's wand, and snapped a few pictures before leaving. Harry was thankful that he had replaced his wand just after finishing Auror training – his old wand would have raised all kinds of questions he'd not have been able to answer. He still had the old wand with him, tucked up in his overnight bag, but he'd not used it since he'd graduated from the academy.

The weeks slipped by quickly after that and November melted seamlessly into December in the blink of an eye. Harry had fallen into an uncomfortable routine that kept him far away from Snape but also kept him cooped up in the small apartment set aside for his living needs. The distinction between his past and present began to blur and he lost the firm grasp on his sense of self as he came to think of himself more and more in terms of Professor James Harrison as opposed to Harry James Potter disguised as Professor Harrison. It didn't help that his current work habits and hobbies differed greatly from those he'd had prior to traveling back in time.

There were of course, staff meetings and patrolling duties that Harry could not back out of, but Snape was surprisingly silent during these meetings. He was not delusional enough to think the surly Slytherin had forgiven him though, as Harry could feel his hate filled gaze boring into him whenever Dumbledore's attention was on other matters. It made him extremely uncomfortable knowing that Snape was just waiting for a chance to corner him away from the safety of the castle and Dumbledore's presence. It also made Harry all that more conscious of the slips he'd made since he'd first showed up before the start of term and during the duel.

If Snape's constant monitoring wasn't unsettling enough, Harry now fell under the closer scrutiny of McGonagall's ever watchful eyes. The Deputy Headmistress had a way of turning up at the oddest moments when he least expected it, appearing during his classes, or at his office door during breaks under the guise of delivering supplies or important documents. He also discovered that she was trailing him, in her Animagus form, during the evenings he patrolled the halls of the school and he was uncertain of whether she was monitoring his every move or watching over him in the likely event that he run into Snape during those late night strolls.

Only Dumbledore seemed to have forgotten the incident entirely, treating Harry no different then he had prior to the disastrous duel. Harry attributed this to the aging wizard's preoccupation with the growing presence of Voldemort in the world outside of Hogwarts. Harry was quick to notice the amount of time that Dumbledore spent away from the school – something he'd not been completely aware of when he'd lived through this year the first time as a student.

There was one more group of people within the castle that eyed Harry with greater suspicion since the duel. The younger Harry and his friends spent just as much time spying on him as Snape and McGonagall did, using the Marauder's Map to keep tabs on his location on the nights that he disappeared into his rooms. The trio completely unaware that Harry was pouring over his own, older copy of the map taking note of Snape's every move.

As the winter holidays grew closer, Harry found himself unconsciously stepping up the intensity of his lessons, asking more from the students, and himself, as he pushed them to the breaking point. Demanding faster reactions, smoother spell transitions, and quick thinking as he taught them how to cast multiple spells without breaking the flow of wand movements. The fifth years seem to suffer the most under the grueling training and more then once Harry had to cut class short because one student or another couldn't cope with the exhausting exercises. Thankfully they had the winter break to look forward to as they revised for the end of term tests and assessments that were being given just before the holidays.

The sixth year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws were the last group of students to be tested as the last day of the term rolled around. Harry could be found clearing out desks and chairs as he set up the classroom for the practical that had been outlined by his unknown employer. The normal black rug that lined the dueling space was expanded to cover the entire floor and dark curtains were hung over the windows to block some of the light streaming through.

Conjured walls, buildings, and holograms littered the room – giving it the appearance of downtown London at night; complete with strolling Muggles and wizards in disguise. When he was happy with the way the dueling set appeared, he grabbed a large bowl filled with folded sheets of paper and his grade book before stepping outside the classroom to wait for the students. Shortly after the bell rang, students began appearing in groups of twos and threes and Harry lined them up just outside the door and once they were all present, he began explaining the rules of the exam.

"Once the exam begins, you will have one hour in which to complete your assigned task and get out," Harry instructed, walking up and down the line as he shook the bowl of papers. "Each of you will be completely on your own out there and you will have to depend on your skills and instincts to get through the course. There are only two rules that you will need to remember once you pass through this door." Harry ran his gaze down the line to make certain he had everyone's attention before he continued. "One, you may only use harmless jinxes and hexes – anyone breaking this rule will automatically fail this exam. And two, for the purposes of this exam a stunning curse will represent a death curse. You may not revive stunned students. Anyone who does not complete their task before one hour has passed will have points deducted from his or her final score that reflect upon the unfinished proportions of the task. Those students 'killed' during their task will be assigned grades based upon their performance up to the point at which they were knocked out. Any questions? No? Then let us begin."

Harry walked down the line, and separated the entire group into three categories; Aurors, Death Eaters, or By-Standers before charming a twelve inch high letter onto the back of their robes. Next he handed each student a slip of paper from the bowl, taking care to make note of the assigned tasks in the grade book before moving to the next student. Once all of them had been assigned a task, he led them silently through the door into the classroom. Gasps were heard up and down the line as they took in the transformed classroom and Harry allowed them a few seconds to take it in before he blew a whistle to signal the exam's start.

Harry waited until the last of the students disappeared into the maze before working his way through to the exit point of the test. Climbing onto a small raised platform, he opened his grade book and placed a charmed dictation quill at the ready as he turned his attention to the floor below as the first few hexes and jinxes began flying through the maze below.

The quill began flittering up and down the column of names taking down notes as Harry commented aloud on the progress of the students below. He found it extremely difficult to keep his mind on the task at hand though, as his thoughts flew back to the memories of his own experience in the maze.

_The sound of the whistle echoed in Harry's ears as he trotted through a deserted ally of the maze with his instructions grasped tightly in a fist frowning as he considered the task that had been assigned to him._

You are a third class Auror, there are rumors of Death  
Eaters stalking Muggles in downtown London and it is  
your job to track them down and capture them. You  
must capture at least two of these 'Death Eaters' in order  
to pass your task.

_It was very odd to be assigned such a task in light of his planned career choice, and he wondered briefly if Professor Harrison had rigged the tasks. Pushing his worries about the identity and motives of his latest defense professor to the back of his mind, Harry pushed forward with his wand held out at the ready as the sound of a duel close by reached his ears. _

_Around the corner he found Seamus and Terry Boot arguing back and forth over some trivial part of their tasks. Shaking his head at the two of them, Harry skirted them and moved deeper into the jumble of tall buildings wondering which spells would be the best to use to capture the 'Death Eaters' he was supposed to be searching out._

_Quite unexpectedly he stumbled onto a pitched battle between two Ravenclaws, one with the Auror's 'A' and the other with a 'DE' emblazoned onto the back of their robes. From the looks of the battle, the Auror was losing badly, unsure of whether he should interfere Harry hesitated for a split second before trying to work his way in closer. His delay though allowed enough time for the Death Eater to stun the Auror, dropping the student out of the test. _

_The Ravenclaw Death Eater, who happened to be one of the former members of the DA, turned to flash a smile in Harry's direction before taking off down the nearest Ally. Muttering under his breath, Harry took off after him firing several tripping jinxes that all missed their mark._

Harry pulled himself out of his daydreams as he caught sight of his younger self living through the memory he'd just been wrapped up in. Frowning, he directed the quill to scribble down several notes about the mistakes that had been made before scanning the rest of the students.

The rest of the time passed fairly quickly as Harry monitored on the mock battles taking place on the floor below him, his mind firmly focused on the task at hand as he continued to take notes on his observations. When the hour had passed, he blew the whistle a second time and the entire set vanished with a puff as the students lowered their wands and glanced around at each other uncertainly. Harry wrapped up his notes and put away his quill as he climbed down off the platform and approached his students.

"I will be reviewing my notes over the next couple of days and will post the results on the last day before your winter holidays. Thank you, you are dismissed," Harry announced as he revived those students who had been 'killed' during the course of the exam. "Mr. Potter, I'd like to have a word with you before you leave."

Harry watched himself frown at his request to stay behind, and couldn't help but laugh inside as he remembered his reaction to that very request many years ago. Harry took a few minutes to return the room back to its normal state while waiting for the students to disperse, glad to have a few minutes to allow himself to recall what he'd been told that long ago day. It didn't take long for the other children to leave, and as the door swung shut on silent hinges for the last time Harry seated himself on the edge of a desk and studied the familiar boy standing with folded arms a few feet away from him.

"Tell me, Mr. Potter, why did you hesitate?" Harry asked himself.

"Why did I…? What do you mean?" his younger self countered with furrowed brow.

"When you came upon a fellow 'Auror' in trouble, you hesitated to help him, why?" Harry clarified.

"I was unsure if I should help or not," younger Harry answered slowly, "I didn't know if I should interfere and thought he might become upset with me for jumping in."

"And if that had been a real battle? Would you have sacrificed another's life so needlessly just out of fear of hurting his feelings?"

"That's a bit harsh isn't it? A real battle is far less organized and you don't have time to think," the younger boy snapped as he dropped his arms and balled his fists up as he glared unknowingly at his older self. "I've been there, I lived through real battles."

"So have I," Harry softly informed himself. "I've lived through more then you could possibly imagine. I've seen those I love cut down by Voldemort and his followers in cold blood. Don't make the mistake of believing that every battle in the real world will be as unorganized as the few you have lived through. You have to learn to trust your instincts and to think on your feet."

An awkward silence followed Harry's short speech, both of them wrapped up in memories of the past that had been triggered by his words. The older Harry's thoughts dwelling on the losses of Ginny and Dumbledore in his time and the younger Harry reliving Sirius's lost at the end of the previous school term. Knowing there was nothing further he had to say, Harry gathered up his grade book and headed up to his office, leaving his younger self to his thoughts.


	10. Lesson 8 – The Improper Way to Drown

**DISCLAIMER:** _All HP characters are the property of JKR, the WB, and respective publishing companies - this is nothing more than a simple FanFiction that I have written. I have made no money from this or any of the other stories I have posted on this or other sites._

_

* * *

_**Lesson 8 – The Improper Way to Drown Sorrows**

The rest of the week passed by quickly and before Harry knew it, he was ensconced once more in his rooms while the vast majority of students piled into the thestral drawn carriages that would take them to the Hogwarts station in anticipation of a homework free holiday spent with friends and family.

For the first time since the beginning of the school year Harry found himself with idle hands. It was disconcerting because the lack of something to do allowed Harry to dwell on his memories of the past and the reality of his situation. It also gave him time to realize once again that he was truly alone in this time. All of his friends and the surrogate family he'd found through the years were far away and it would be many years before he could see them once more.

It was a depressing thought and no matter where Harry turned in his small set of rooms, no matter how many times he tried to bury himself in some book, he couldn't escape the haunting truth. He had never before realized how much he looked forward to spending the holidays with his friends each year, even after the war it had never been this hard to think of those who'd been lost.

"No escape," Harry muttered as he paced from room to room searching for something to occupy his mind with. "Should've taken a vacation... but where would I have gone anyway?"

Slumping into the nearest chair with a sigh of defeat, Harry glared moodily into the cheerful flames that mocked his inner turmoil. It wasn't long before he was on his feet once more though, pacing once again as he frantically searched for some relief from his inner ghosts. He was halfway to his bedroom when he threw up his hands in disgust and grabbed his thicket set of robes, a pair of gloves, and his wand and left his quarters with a determined expression plastered across his face.

Without knowing where he was going, Harry wandered through the corridors of the castle aimlessly. Surprisingly he didn't run into anyone as he slipped wraithlike through the empty halls. When he reached the ground floor he hesitated for a moment as the sounds of the few remaining students eating breakfast floated out from the Great Hall. He wasn't in the mood for company though, and after taking a minute to pull on his gloves he slipped out the main door and stepped out into the blindingly gray swirl of a small winter blizzard.

Harry paused for a moment, questioning his spur of the moment decision to leave the castle in such weather, but quickly pushed his doubts aside. Immediately, as he stepped down from the last step, he was surrounded by a blanket of ice cold snowflakes. Glancing back towards the castle, he could make out the dim glow of several lighted windows and a fresh wave of melancholy swept through him as he thought once more of the friends he'd left behind in the future. Tucking his hands deep into the pockets of his robe, he wandered out into the storm, the bulk of the castle slowly disappearing as the blizzard intensified.

He walked blindly through the storm, not paying any attention to the snow blurred surroundings as he simply placed on foot in front of the other as his mind slowly emptied. His attention on the soft crunching of crystallized snow flakes being crushed beneath his boots with each step and the piercing wind that howled out the storm's fury all around him. The numbness of body and mind in his near frozen state was a welcome change to the guilt and regrets that had plagued him earlier.

Time passed and Harry was content to wander aimlessly until an ominous cracking sounded from under his feet and the ground shifted sluggishly. Gulping, Harry froze where he stood and immediately began to stink down through the blanket of snow only to soon feel ice cold slush trickling into his boots and soaking his pants. Terror flooded his soul as he realized that he must have walked out onto the half frozen lake during his walk. Not knowing how far out on the lake he'd gone, Harry spun around and attempted to run back the way he'd come, only to feel the ice shift wildly below his feet plunging him down into the freezing water below.

Harry didn't even have time to cry out as the water swallowed him, complete darkness surrounding him as the frigid waters blocked out the gray haze of the storm above. A rush of bubbles escaped his mouth as he panicked at the thought that he might freeze to death at the bottom of the lake and he thrashed around helplessly in an effort to escape. It was useless though and soon Harry began to feel the extreme coldness seeping through him as his vision began to fade. Half unconscious, he was only dimly aware of the hand that closed over the back of his robes and hauled him free of the deadly waters. The last thing he saw before blacking out completely was the worried face of Hagrid, as the half-giant hauled him out of the freezing water and draped him over his shoulder.

When Harry next came to, it was to find himself propped up in a large armchair, swaddled in thick blankets, in front of a roaring fireplace. Groggy, and unsure of where he was and how he got there, Harry shifted around to get a better look at his surroundings, only to gasp as thousands of searing pinpricks of pain shot through his entire body. Sweet broke out on his forehead as wave after wave of the needle-like pains assaulted him, triggered by the slightest movements and the tensing of his muscles.

"I'd try not ta move if I were yeh," Hagrid suggested as he walked into Harry's line of vision. "Best ta keep still and let yer body warm up slowly."

"H... h... ha... ho... how?" Harry stuttered in an effort to speak.

"Talkin' won't do yeh much good right now either," Hagrid informed him gruffly as he tossed another log on the fire and added yet another blanket to those already covering Harry. "Yer lucky I found yeh when I did, or yeh might have been lost fer good. Why yeh'd be fool enough ter walk out onta the lake at this time of year is beyond meh. What were yeh doin' out there any way?"

"D... dro... drownin'?" Harry managed to ask through a fresh wave of pain.

Hagrid frowned down at him, completely caught off guard, and either unwilling or unable to see the humor of Harry's smart mouthed remark. Shaking his head, Hagrid moved off out of sight as he banged around his cottage leaving Harry to his recovery.

As his pain slowly subsided, Harry began drifting off to sleep as the warmth gradually seeped through the blankets and into his flesh. His dreams filled with the fanciful nightmares of his experience – in which the giant squid fought over him with Hagrid in a bid to pull him further into the murky deeps of the frozen lake.

Hours later Harry awoke once more feeling stiff and overheated inside his bundle of blankets. He moved his arms tentatively at first, and when he experienced none of the biting pain he had the first time he woke, he pushed the blankets completely off only to discover that he was naked beneath them. A discreet cough from somewhere behind him told him he was not alone and blushing from head to toe he scrambled to cover himself once more.

"Feeling better I presume, James?" An amused voice asked once he was safely under cover once more.

"Yes, thank you," Harry mumbled, his face still bright red with mortification.

"I admit I was most troubled when Hagrid notified me of your condition," Dumbledore added as he summoned a second chair and seated himself in front of the fire beside Harry. "The entire staff has been anxious about your health since news of your accident spread."

Harry snorted in disbelief at hearing this, his mind immediately picturing the smug satisfaction of Snape should he have died from his ordeal. If Dumbledore read the meaning behind his reaction, the Headmaster gave no indication as he continued speaking.

"Now that you are out of immediate danger, I was hoping you could explain how you ended up in the lake during the middle of a snow storm."

Harry muttered something about 'out walking' and 'lost' in reply, but didn't elaborate more as he was still uncertain of the details himself. Dumbledore watched him for several minutes, as if hoping for something more. He sighed when it became apparent that nothing more would be offered. As he rose from his chair, Harry thought he detected a flicker of sadness and regret, but it was gone before he could be sure.

"I had hoped..." Dumbledore began, only to drift off as he frowned down at Harry once more. "You are a confusing wizard, James Harrison." And with that, Dumbledore was gone, leaving Harry feeling bewildered and uncomfortable.

Harry didn't have long to dwell on his short meeting with Dumbledore though, as Hagrid returned with his clothes. Gingerly he rose onto his feet and dressed as quickly as his still weak hands would allow before collapsing once more into the chair. Next thing he knew, Hagrid was pressing a mug of gently steaming liquid into his hands and settling down into the chair that Dumbledore had vacated a few minutes earlier. Harry nodded his thanks as he wrapped his hands around the welcoming warmth and took a small sip of the drink only to choke on it as it burned his entire mouth.

"What _is_ this?" He rasped out after regaining his breath.

"Oh, Firewhiskey," Hagrid explained. "Thought yeh could use a bit of warming up on the inside after being near froze ta death."

"Firewhiskey?" Harry repeated dully as he looked down at his cup with new respect. "Is it always this harsh?"

"Never drank before, did yeh?" Hagrid asked, chuckling at Harry's expression. "First time's always the worst."

"This stuff puts Pepper Imps to shame," Harry noted as he took a second, more careful sip.

Hagrid laughed heartily and drank from his own mug of whiskey, as the two of them sat there in companionable silence. For the first time in days, Harry felt content with his lot. His loneliness receding as he struck up a conversation with Hagrid and the two of them exchanged stories about teaching disasters and funny anecdotes. Until, after several glasses of Firewhiskey, Harry found himself confiding his earlier feelings to Hagrid.

"The thought of spending the holidays alone, after everything else that's happened, is depressing," Harry stated mournfully. "Everyone I cared about is gone – either dead or gone."

"Teribble," Hagrid agreed with an absent nod, a bit drunk himself.

"And knowing Snape's just waiting for me to turn my back..."

"Severus? Nah, he won't botha yeh no more," Hagrid denied. "Dubbledoore trusts em."

"He's trouble, no good will come out of trusting that snake," Harry muttered darkly, but Hagrid never heard him. The half-giant had fallen asleep in his chair and was snoring gustily. Harry was left alone with his thoughts once again as the night fell, bringing with it more snow as the storm raged on outside of the tiny cottage.

It wasn't until several hours later that Harry added the music of his own soft snores to Hagrid's.


	11. Lesson 9 – Reality Check 101

**DISCLAIMER:** _All HP characters are the property of JKR, the WB, and respective publishing companies - this is nothing more than a simple FanFiction that I have written. I have made no money from this or any of the other stories I have posted on this or other sites._

* * *

**Lesson 9 – Reality Check 101**

Harry woke the next morning with a pounding headache, compliments of the firewhiskey, and aching feet. On top of that his eyes felt gritty and irritated due to the extended use of the color changing contacts without cleaning and another lingering after-effect of his first experience with potent alcohol. His discomfort, bordering on true pain, was enough to make him seriously consider avoiding any type of alcohol in the future.

Stretching judiciously, Harry discovered that his body ached in many other places, his hands and fingers, his legs from the thigh down, and his feet by far the worst. He was also troubled to find that the weakness he'd felt last night persisted, though he was uncertain if it was a lingering effect of his submersion in the lake or the fact that he'd slept in a chair for nearly an entire day.

Heaving himself up and out of the chair, Harry allowed a tiny groan that was half gasp to escape as the ache in his feet turned into biting pain. Flopping back down into the chair, Harry leaned over with the intent of getting a closer look at them when he heard a voice address him from behind.

"Ah, you are awake, Mr. Harrison, good," Madam Pomfrey declared as she bustled over to him and placed a satchel on the chair that Hagrid had fallen asleep in the night before. "That will make my job easier."

Harry frowned as she took out several vials of potions from her bag and faced him with an unreadable expression.

"I'm going to ask you a few questions and I need you to answer them as best you can," Madam Pomfrey announced after scrutinizing Harry for several seconds. She waited for Harry's nod before continuing. "Good, first off, can you recall how long you were outside before you fell through the ice?"

"Er, not exactly," Harry answered after thinking about it a moment. "Though, I do recall that breakfast was being served when I left the castle."

Madam Pomfrey seemed to pale just the slightest bit as she digested this news, and Harry wondered briefly, just how much time he'd been wandering around aimlessly and how much of a difference it would make. He didn't have time to ponder over the matter for long though, because Madam Pomfrey was already asking another question.

"What type of clothing and foot wear did you have on at the time? And were you feeling chilled before you fell through?"

"I was wearing my everyday robes, the blue ones with the thicker lining, I'd left my scarf in my quarters, but I did have on a set of dueling gloves," Harry replied.

"Shoes?" Madam Pomfrey prompted when Harry forget to mention them.

"Ah, yes, I was wearing my old reinforced boots," Harry quickly informed her.

"And just how cold would you say you felt at the time?"

"That I'm not certain of," Harry murmured, "I was not paying much attention to my surroundings, though I do recall that I was chilled. If I was feeling the cold any more than that, I was too preoccupied at the time to notice."

"Can you tell me what you remember about the accident?"

"I didn't know I'd traveled out onto the lake at first," Harry explained, his mind traveling back to that fearful moment when he heard the ice crack and felt the ground shifting and sinking beneath his feet. "It's odd really, now that I think about it. I knew the moment I heard the ice crack and felt the shifting from under my feet that I was in trouble. Yet I didn't fall in right away. I sank, as if the ice and snow below my feet was melting instead of cracking. It wasn't until I tried to get off the ice that I was plunged into the water."

Madam Pomfrey nodded absently as she knelt down beside Harry and lifted the blankets from his feet. She poked and prodded them for several minutes, taking note of their color and of Harry's groans, gasps, and flinching. She next examined his legs from the knee down, bending and twisting them every which way as she studied his ankles and knees intently. Next she inspected his hands and fingers before standing up and uncorking two different vials of potion.

"One more questions Mr. Harrison," Madam Pomfrey stated as she measured out a healthy dose from each bottle into a cup that she conjured. "Do you feel any lingering pain, and if so, please describe it."

"Some pain," Harry reluctantly admitted. "Mostly just aching in the legs, my feet and my hands, though my feet are the worst I think. When I tried to stand, both last night and just before you arrived, it was like stepping on hundreds of sharp needles or walking across a bed of hot coals."

"I suspected as much," Madam Pomfrey informed him briskly as she dug out a bundle of dried leaves, selected several of the largest, and added them to the contents of the cup after crushing them in her hand. "Three and a half hours walking through snowdrifts in the middle of a blizzard coupled with the submersion into a half frozen lake, measuring close to twenty degrees below zero, for nearly an entire minute with little to no protection. You're lucky to be alive, Mr. Harrison."

Harry blanched as the reality of just how close to death he came sank in and it wasn't just his life he thought about. If something were to happen to him, right now, the future and his past would be irrevocably changed. Too many future events depended upon Harry completing the task he had been given, if he failed... then chances were his younger self would fail, and the future would become a nightmare. It was a sobering thought, one that Harry felt all too keenly as he sat there gaping at nothing in particular while the school Healer continued to prepare his medicine.

"You have suffered severe damage to the nerves in your feet, and to a lesser extent, the nerves in your hands and legs due to the extreme temperatures you subjected your body to Mr. Harrison," Madam Pomfrey added as she mixed a cup of fine powder with warm water in a bowl, adding several of the smaller leaves from the bundle she'd taken out of her satchel. "You will need to remain off your feet completely for the next three days and you are not to leave this cottage for five – further exposure to the sub-zero temperatures that exist outside and there is a possibility that you could lose one or both feet. Magic can heal many ailments, Mr. Harrison, but it can't replace a lost limb. Nor can it cure stupidity."

Harry flinched at the severity he heard in the tone of Madam Pomfrey's voice, he knew she had a point though and he knew that he had no one to blame but himself for his current condition.

"Drink this," Madam Pomfrey ordered as she handed him the cup containing the mixture of potions and leaves.

Harry did as she instructed and swallowed the entire dose in a couple of gulps, gasping as the ice cold mixture slid down his throat and settled, like a rock, in the pit of his stomach. Immediately he began shivering, his whole body becoming chilled as the icy feeling spread through him. So wrapped up in the sensation, he didn't realize Madam Pomfrey had begun spreading the paste she made over both of Harry's feet until he felt them begin burning.

Harry thought he was going to die when the two extreme sensations collided around his knees, but surprisingly, a comforting warmth cloaked him instead and the achy feeling he'd felt since the night before vanished. Harry sighed in relief and wiggled his toes experimentally, only to discover that the paste had solidified into a cast-like structure over his feet.

"Three days, Mr. Harrison, not so much as a toe should touch the floor until then," Madam Pomfrey asserted firmly as she packed up her things. "You should not feel any pain or discomfort in your feet during that time, if you stay off of them. I'll return then, to check on your progress, and we'll find out whether you'll be able to walk again or not."

Harry didn't bid her goodbye as she left with her satchel in hand – he was too caught up in his near fatal mistake and the consequences to pay her much mind. He stared down at his feet with mixed emotions as he wondered what he would learn in three days time.

Approximately an hour later, Hagrid returned home with Dobby in tow, the house elf balancing a large plate of eggs and kippers with toast, a jug of pumpkin juice, and several boxes. Harry, only half curious, listened as Hagrid directed the diminutive Dobby to place the plate and juice on the table while taking the boxes and setting them on the bed. Harry was then caught off guard as Hagrid picked up the kitchen table and set it down again in front of Harry, spilling a touch of pumpkin juice as it clanked down.

"Eat up, James," Hagrid cheerfully instructed as he began pulling various packages out of his pockets and setting them on the table.

Harry automatically obeyed as he mentally cataloged each item that Hagrid placed haphazardly on the table. Two soggy owl treats, a trio of dormice – _How long has he had those in his pockets?_, a handful of small, round, pink eggs that glowed softly in the lamplight, a crumpled piece of parchment, a dog bone, and several white and black speckled feathers.

The mice, curiously enough, studied Harry just as thoroughly as he studied them. It was odd, and as Harry watched he could have sworn the smallest tucked its front paws into a jacket pocket. Harry blinked once and focused on the mice again, taking a closer look, but saw nothing but three simple mice washing their whiskers with a series of rapid paw swipes. Harry shook his head and went back to eating his breakfast, certain that his mind was playing tricks on him.

"Madam Pomfrey told me yeh'd be stuck here awhile so I had Dobby here get a few of yer things together. Hope yeh don't mind," Hagrid announced a few minutes later as he began returning everything to his pockets.

"No, that's fine," Harry murmured, wondering what the elf might have packed for him. "I really hope I'm not causing you any trouble."

"Quite alright, really, I was wonderin' who I'd get to watch over Fang while I'm gone fer a few days," Hagrid countered. "Oh, and before I forget, Dobby had to let me in to get yer wand, seein' as how yeh'd not had it on you when yeh went fer yer swim." Hagrid had pulled out the wand and held it out to Harry as he spoke.

Harry felt his mouth go dry as he reached out to take the wand, his ears buzzing so loud he couldn't hear the rest of Hagrid's words. The moment his hand touched the wand's wood, Harry felt sick to his stomach as the handle warmed at the contact. A tinkling of red and gold sparks burst from the tip, just like they had the very first time he held that wand on that long ago day when Ollivander handed it to him.

A thousand sensations passed through Harry as he sat there holding his first wand for the first time in years. Sure, he'd held onto it for sentimental purposes, but he'd never used it once since he'd purchased a new one shortly after he graduated from Auror training. There was nothing wrong with his old wand, not really, but he'd vowed to never use it again after that fateful day when he confronted Voldemort for the last time.

Pushing back the wave of memories that he associated with his old wand, Harry blinked his eyes and attempted to focus on Hagrid. Hagrid smiled at him from across the table, seemingly unaware of Harry's inner turmoil.

"Er, this isn't actually my wand," Harry ventured after several long minutes. He immediately felt bad when Hagrid's face fell. "I mean, it is, but I haven't used it for years, it's more of a keepsake then anything really. You, um, didn't see a wand at all when you, er, found me?"

"Nah," Hagrid confirmed gruffly. "Thought yeh'd lost it until I found that un there, but I guess it'd been lost when yeh fell in."

"It's quite all right Hagrid," Harry soothed as he tried to smile through his worries. "It's my fault for not being more careful. I suppose it's locked beneath a new layer of ice anyway, and this wand still works."

That seemed to cheer Hagrid up immensely and Harry watched him preparing for what looked like a journey. The large man tossing out random facts about his various pets as he packed his porcupine quill suit, a bag of week old rock cakes, a flask of mead, and several rolls of parchment into a battered traveling case.

"Fang here'll keep yeh company while I'm gone, his food's in the cupboard behind yeh and Beak – Witherwings can fend fer himself out in the forest, but he likes ter come in on a cold night and curl up in me bed. Just be sure an' let em out in the mornin' or he'll rip the house apart a lookin' fer food."

"Er, how long will you be gone?"

"Just a couple o days, got a few things need ter be done," Hagrid replied evasively.

Harry wondered if the half-giant was carrying out some task for Dumbledore, and nearly asked him, but at the last second he realized that it wouldn't be a smart thing to do. Flaunting around his knowledge of the Order or of Dumbledore's involvement in the fight against Voldemort would bring up all kinds of questions that Harry couldn't answer. _Who ever said ignorance is bliss, must have been smoking dung bombs,_ Harry thought to himself as he watched Hagrid tuck his traveling case into a pocket and gather up his pink umbrella. Hagrid waved jovially and left in a swirl of snow without looking back and Harry was once more left alone with his thoughts.

Fang whimpered and whined for a few minutes afterward, but soon curled up next to Harry before the fire. Harry patted his head fondly and let his thoughts wander back to the dilemma of his missing wand. It was troubling to not know what had happened to it, and more then a bit disturbing because his wand had always been such a big part of him. He almost felt more concern over its loss then he did over the severity of his injuries.

The weight of it bore down on Harry for a full five minutes before he slapped his hand against the arm of the chair and mocked himself out loud. "I can't believe I've been so blind, some great and powerful wizard I turned out to be, can't even hold onto a single slim stick of wood." Fang growled up at him and Harry frowned down at the dog, which happened to be looking up at him reproachfully. "A little too dramatic am I boy?"

Fang barked what sounded like an affirmative and Harry snorted as he rolled his wand back and forth between his fingers. He was still sitting there, lost in his thoughts, when Dumbledore arrived later that afternoon to check on him.

"Good afternoon, James," Dumbledore greeted as he glided into the small hut and joined Harry at the table. "How are you feeling on this fine winter's afternoon?"

"Afternoon, sir," Harry replied conscious of the fact that he must look a complete mess still. "Alright I suppose."

"Is something amiss?"

"I'm concerned, Professor Dumbledore," Harry admitted as he ran a hand over his face and through his hair as he leaned forward. "I've discovered that my wand was lost when I fell through the ice."

"Your wand?" Dumbledore asked pointedly as he flicked his eyes down to the wand Harry held in his hands.

"Yes, you see, this is an old keep sake of mine, Hagrid found it in my room and thought it was my wand," Harry explained truthfully. "It holds a lot of memories, but I have not used it in years. My wand, though very similar in appearances, was with me during my ill-fated walk."

"I see," Dumbledore stated slowly. "Have you tried summoning your wand?"

"Actually, no, the thought never crossed my mind," Harry grunted as a look of hope lit his face. "I was a bit startled by the sudden appearance of an old forgotten friend." Harry held up his old wand as he said this and allowed a sad smile to pass across his face as he tenderly ran his hands over the length of the wand. Dumbledore let the silence drag out a bit, and Harry cleared his throat tentatively as he concentrated on his newer wand and cast the summoning charm.

Harry waited anxiously, peering at each window in turn as he prayed for some sign of his missing wand, completely unaware that Dumbledore was in turn studying him with a thoughtful frown. Both men flinched slightly when something, or someone, began pounding on the door. Dumbledore rose to his feet and as he opened the door a long thin chunk of ice zoomed into the room and landed on the table with a loud bang.

Harry leaned closer to examine the small block of ice, and was amazed to discover that his wand was buried in the center of it. Grinning he waved his old wand over the block; melting the ice to free his wand before gingerly picking it up to examine it.

"A little scratched up, but relatively unharmed from its short stay at the bottom of the lake," Harry breathed out in relief. "Can't believe I didn't think to summon it sooner."

"May I ask you why you replaced a wand that apparently still retains a strong magical core?"

Harry froze in the process of tucking both wands into his robes when Dumbledore's question sunk in. His mind screaming in panic as he wondered just how much Dumbledore knew and how much he suspected.

"It's a long story," Harry answered evasively as he avoided meeting the Headmaster's gaze.

"We have time," Dumbledore stated calmly, using his own wand to conjure a pot of tea, two cups, and a plate of sandwiches.

"I see," Harry countered in resignation, knowing there was no way he'd be able to wiggle out of answering. A hundred thoughts tumbled through his mind and he half expected another owl to show and deliver yet another cautionary note. Nothing happened though, and when Harry looked up it was to find Dumbledore staring at him with a serious expression on his face, his eyes firm and resolute and Harry knew he'd have to say something this time. _But what!?_ his mind screamed at him. Sighing, Harry did the only thing he could, given the circumstances and his need for secrecy. He told the truth, without revealing any names, dates, or true details - he simply described a series of events that could have occurred during any given war.

"During the war, I lost many close friends and more then one father-like figure in my life. I fought hard, desperately really, to protect my loved ones while fighting for what I believed was right. I failed. My fiancée, a young lady I loved very much, suffered because of it. She died horribly and in a rage I tracked down the man responsible - determined to have my revenge." Harry explained tightly, his eyes focused on his old wand that he held tightly in his fist once more. "He mocked me when I caught up with him and took perverse pleasure in recounting every sordid detail of her death, bragging about the part he played in making her suffer during those last minutes before taking her life. He thought it would break me."

Harry longed to stand up and pace at this point, but his injuries and Madam Pomfrey's admonishments kept him in his chair as he took a ragged breath and continued his story. Completely aware of Dumbledore's gaze as he spoke of, for the first time in his life, the night he defeated Voldemort.

"His cohorts didn't try to interfere, not at first; they thought that the monster was invincible. We dueled fiercely, and I'm sorry to say I resorted to using Unforgivables on him – so great was my grief and rage. There were several other dark spells that I eagerly embraced during that bloody battle. At the time I was beyond rational thinking, beyond caring what I did – my entire being wrapped up in the single thought that this man must pay for everything he'd done. The killing blow, when it did come, didn't come from a wand though. I'd been disarmed at the end of the duel and I hated myself at that moment - not because of what I'd done, but because I thought I was going to die without avenging the death's of those I loved. Knowing I'd die any way, I charged at him, knocking him off his feet and onto a rusted, piece of grating. It pierced his heart – killing him instantly. What happened next I don't really recall; everything goes kind of hazy after that, and when I next realized what was happening, my remaining friends had arrived with help and they were cleaning up what remained."

"I survived that night, but I was left with mixed emotions about what I had done in the heat of my anger. My heart ached too, for my loved ones were still lost to me. It took me months to recover and pick up the pieces of my life, and after finishing a few training courses, I put up my old wand and locked off that part of my past – swearing to move on with my life."

Harry's voice trailed off when he finished, his eyes closed as a hundred memories paraded through his mind. Several tears trickled down his face as he saw once more Ginny's broken body, Sirius vanishing through the arch, Dumbledore being thrown from the tower, and a hundred other lost friends. Tears he had held back for years threatened to break free as Harry grappled with the need to warn the man sitting in stunned silence just a few feet away. More then anything Harry wanted to warn Dumbledore of what he knew would come to pass, but somehow he knew that it wasn't possible.

Even if Dumbledore believed him, and the chances of that were slim enough as it was, the repercussions of such a foolhardy action would be enough to unravel the very fabric of his own future. And even more then Harry's urge to prevent the coming disasters, was the knowledge that he could create an alternate reality in which Voldemort was never defeated. It was a harsh and bitter pill to swallow.

Dumbledore said nothing as Harry struggled with his feelings, the old wizard's eyes filled with sorrow and compassion as he waited for Harry to regain control of his emotions. He simply pushed a cup of warm tea into Harry's hands and patiently gave Harry the time he needed.

In the end, when Harry was finally calm enough to look up, he found that he felt considerably lighter. He worried though, that Dumbledore would think less of him because of his admission of using dark magic to accomplish the demise of another human. Yet, there were no traces of accusation or suspicion in the Headmaster's eyes as Harry met his gaze.

"Sometimes," Dumbledore whispered softly, "we have to make choices in our lives, choices that in turn will affect us, and those around us, in ways we never imagined. Love brings out both the best, and the worst, in each and every one of us."

Harry nodded, not quite sure what Dumbledore meant, but thankful that he understood more then Harry had thought he would.

"You have been through much in your young life," Dumbledore added after a moment's pause, his eyes looking slightly troubled as if he didn't quite understand something. "You remind me of another young wizard that taught here many years ago. He too suffered greatly, as has our young Mr. Potter."

Harry started at Dumbledore's reference to his own life, uncertain if Dumbledore knew more then he let on, but it quickly became apparent that he was referring to his younger self.

"He carries the burden well for one so young, though I doubt he realizes the truth in that," Harry said reflectively as he thought about the struggles he endured at that time in his life. "He seems torn by the enormity of it though, and fears his own weaknesses and doesn't see his strengths."

"A very astute observation," Dumbledore pointed out.

The two of them made small talk for another hour before Dumbledore excused himself, with the promise of returning the following afternoon. Tired, and slightly sore, Harry stretched out in his chair and propped his feet up on the table where they were pleasantly warmed by the heat of the fire as he drifted off to sleep.

The second day passed much the same way as the first, though with far less drama. In short, it was a pleasant day spent chatting with Professor Dumbledore about politics, the weather, and who would likely win the World Cup at the end of this year's Quidditch season.

The third day of Harry's confinement started out very similarly as well, though surprisingly enough, McGonagall joined the two wizards, and the three of them discussing various theories about teaching methods. Harry brought up Umbridge and Lockhart, repeating rumors he'd heard during his school years, while Dumbledore praised McGonagall, Lupin, and for some reason Snape. McGonagall waved off the praises while making a few muttered comments about Trelawney before complimenting Flitwick, Sprout, and oddly enough Binns.

"Binns?" Harry repeated in disbelief.

"He is the model of consistency," McGonagall insisted.

"Yes, but technically he's dead," Harry countered with a chuckle as he shook his head at McGonagall. "Trelawney is just as predictable, but you do not hold her in the same esteem."

"Trelawney is a windbag," McGonagall growled as she sipped tea and scowled. "Her predictions are dangerous in that she believes what she is spouting off and cares not for the innocents she traumatizes with her false declarations of death."

"Minerva, dear, it is well known you dislike the subject of Divination," Dumbledore stated with a chuckle of his own. "Do not judge our less then illustrious seer based upon prejudice."

"I didn't know you harbored such ill feelings regarding the future Professor," Harry chided good naturedly, "You must surely feel the same about Arithmancy then as well."

"Arithmancy is a refined science that explores the possibility of predictable outcomes. It studies similarities, patterns, and... and..."

"Guesses at what the future holds by drawing a number out of a hat?" Harry tossed out with a smirk.

"Insolent pup," McGonagall barked as she batted at Harry with her hat.

"You must admit that there are redeeming qualities in both subjects," Dumbledore chided as he refilled the teapot.

"Yes, if you'd like I can read your future in the tea leaves Minerva," Harry excitedly added as he whisked McGonagall's empty cup out of her hands and swirled it several times as he chanted mysteriously. Sounding eerily like Trelawney as he peered deeply into the cup after draining the last few drops of tea from the cup. "I see a dark man wearing a crooked hat and a songbird that cries in the night."

"Go on then, James," Minerva encouraged halfheartedly. "What tragedy do you see for me?"

"A great grief over the loss of one you hold dear," Harry whispered tightly with tears shining in his eyes. He knew he was crossing a dangerous line, but he felt he needed to warn them somehow. "I see you wearing the wings of the Phoenix and riding the storm on the back of a golden stallion."

McGonagall laughed as if he'd just told her the funniest joke in the world and Harry joined in halfheartedly, though he noted that Dumbledore looked extremely troubled by his words. Harry nodded once, catching Dumbledore's eye, before he handed the cup back to McGonagall with a flourish.

"So, any chance of getting out of this prison early?" Harry asked casually.

"Not a chance, Mr. Harrison," Madam Pomfrey barked as she stepped inside and shook the snow from her robes. "You need to remain off your feet for several more hours at least, and out of the cold for another two or three days."

Harry sighed and slumped back into his chair dejectedly, feeling out of sorts. He missed the meaningful glance that Dumbledore and McGonagall exchanged, but heard Pomfrey's exasperation loud and clear. She looked as if she was about to give Harry a stern lecture, when she shook her head instead and began changing the dressing on his feet. Probing the ball of his foot, his toes, and his heel with her fingers before reapplying a thin layer of the paste she'd made and wrapping both feet tightly with cotton bandages lined with protective charms.

"It seems they are healing better then expected and you can begin putting weight on them once the potion hardens, but don't stay on your feet too long," Madam Pomfrey instructed him. "They'll be tender for another day or two and you'll most likely limp for some time yet, but they are healing rather nicely given the amount of damage they suffered."

"Thank you, you're a miracle worker when it comes to healing," Harry replied earnestly as he warmly took her hand in his and smiled winningly up into the healer's eyes. "How soon can I return to my quarters?"

Pomfrey scowled at Harry and withdrew her hand, the mood spoiled entirely by Harry's question. "Two days, but if you don't take it easy on your feet then you might be here even longer."

"In other words, James, flattery won't get you any where," McGonagall chortled.

"Don't worry, son, you'll be running up and down the halls soon enough," Dumbledore added.

Harry blushed as all three of his former mentors had a good laugh at his expense. All too soon though, Harry was left alone as first Madam Pomfrey, then McGonagall, and finally Dumbledore bid him good night. He sat there with his eyes closed for well over an hour, letting his mind wander back over the last few days while he waited for the salve on his feet to dry.

Twenty-two minutes later, Harry reached down and tested his bandages, and to his pleasure found them solid and unmoving – a set of semi-molded shoes that would protect his feet. Satisfied that he'd waited long enough, Harry gingerly placed both feet firmly onto the floor and carefully eased his weight onto them as he rose out of the chair.

There was a small amount of tingling pain for the first few seconds, but then it sort of faded away as the circulation in his feet returned to normal. Smiling at his small success, Harry let go of the chair and took one shuffling step forward, only to feel another sharp pain. He half expected this though, considering what he'd done to his feet, and fought back the urge to drop back into the chair in defeat.

He prepared to take yet another step when a loud roar and a bang sounded from outside. Frowning, Harry pulled out his wand and tried hobbling over to the window as fast as he could. He was nearly there when someone crashed into the side of the house, shaking the entire foundation of the cottage. Completely forgetting the fragile state of his healing feet, Harry blasted the door off its hinges and sprinted outside into the fading afternoon light. Sharp pains shot through his feet as the protective casing the potion had given him broke apart as his feet broke through the icy crust of snow that covered the ground. The pain, however, didn't last more then a dozen steps as the frigid cold crystals numbed all feeling in his feet. A second thud shook the cottage as Harry dashed around the side and skidded to an abrupt stop as he discovered the cause of the disturbance.

Two mountain trolls were attacking Hagrid, throwing and shoving the half giant back and forth between the two of them. Hagrid was fighting back as best he could, but still no match for the two full grown trolls. Knowing he had to act fast, Harry shot a flurry of red sparks up into the air before fluidly bringing his wand back into position and sending a blinding flash of light straight into the nearest troll.

The beast roared angrily and turned on Harry in an instant, this was exactly what Harry had hoped it would do and he shifted his weight forward onto the balls of his feet as the troll charged straight at him. Wand out and ready, Harry waited until the troll was close enough to reach out and grab him, before thrusting his wand out and up with a sharp jabbing flick of the wrist. Boiling water poured from the tip of Harry's wand, melting the snow, and warming the ground, just in front of the monster's feet. As the troll stepped down onto the now muddy ground, its foot sank down deeply into the ooze due to the massive weight of the creature.

Harry threw himself out of reach of the troll's long arms and club as he cast a freezing charm on the soggy ground – effectively hampering the troll's movements. Angered and confused the troll screamed and roared as it swung repeatedly at Harry from where it stood half buried in the ice and dirt, its eyes blazing red as they glared directly at the quivering Harry. He had only a second's warning as the frustrated troll threw its club at him when its previous attempts failed to reach Harry where he lay on the ground only a few feet away. Only a quick swishing flick of his wand followed by a sharp thrust redirected the dangerous weapon so that it landed at the forest's edge instead of on Harry's head. It was a close call that left him poignantly aware of just how brutal and bloodthirsty trolls could be.

Harry took another second to shoot up a second, larger blast of red sparks before crawling around the struggling troll he'd captured in order to give Hagrid a hand with the remaining troll. He needn't have bothered though, for once Harry had distracted the other beast, Hagrid had been able to finish off the one he'd been left with and the thing now lay dead at his feet.

"So much for a quiet night, eh Hagrid?" Harry gasped out as he allowed himself to flop back weakly onto the snow covered ground.

Hagrid didn't respond, instead he limped over to the struggling troll that Harry had trapped and quickly ended its life. Harry grimaced and averted his eyes from the sight, shuddering out of fear and exhaustion as the earth heaved one last time as the huge monster flopped over lifelessly to the ground. He didn't feel sorry for the creature, but he did wish that there could have been another way to deal with it.

Not much longer after that Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, and a couple of other professors came running up to the scene with wands drawn. Snape sneered at Harry once before Dumbledore took control and sent the Potion's Master scurrying back to the castle to alert Madam Pomfrey. The Headmaster then conjured two stretchers, one for Harry and one for Hagrid, and with the help of McGonagall levitated both of them off the cold ground and onto the stretchers before whisking off to the castle.

Harry grimly hung on as they practically flew over the snow, his feet slowly beginning to burn with pain as the numbness began to fade. He did his best to ignore his own discomfort though; saving his concern for Hagrid's condition as the half-giant had passed out soon after finishing off the last troll. It was obvious that he'd been hurt pretty bad and only Harry's knowledge of events yet to come, kept him from thinking the worst.

* * *

**AN:** An unsigned reviewer of the last chapter had dropped a question about what Harry is or in not thinking in regards to changes that can or can not be made. I won't answer or reply to that review in the story, because I don't want to give anything away, but I mentioned it so that if that person really would like to hear my answer, he or she should sign in and message me so that I can answer. Otherwise, you'll just have to wait for the rest of the story to be posted to see how I addressed that particular line of thought. - Jenn


	12. Lesson 10 – Organizing Priorities

**DISCLAIMER:** _All HP characters are the property of JKR, the WB, and respective publishing companies - this is nothing more than a simple FanFiction that I have written. I have made no money from this or any of the other stories I have posted on this or other sites._

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* * *

_**Lesson 10 – Organizing Priorities**

"Mr. Harrison!" Madam Pomfrey screeched angrily as Harry's stretcher was floated into the hospital wing first, her face a livid shade of red as she caught a passing glance at Harry's newly re-injured feet. She appeared to be about to launch into one of her professional tantrums when her eyes fell on the severely injured Groundskeeper and gasped. "Hagrid! What happened to him? Quickly, bring him over here."

Harry twisted around so he could watch as Hagrid was levitated sideways onto three beds that had been shoved hastily together. He only caught bits and pieces of their whispered conversation as Dumbledore and McGonagall assisted the school healer in the seemingly frantic task of healing the half-giant.

"... trolls!?"

"...over before..."

"James... terrible... other troll..."

"...brave and foolish..."

"...still, trolls?"

"... okay?"

Harry tried to lean closer, only to have his feet brush against the edge of a table sending a wave of blinding pain through his raw feet. Harry hissed at the shock of the sudden contact and leaned over in an effort to get a close look at his feet only to pause as he caught sight of a familiar shadow lurking not far from his bed. Slowly he straightened up as best he could in spite of the continued pain in his feet, pulling his wand out and hiding it in the folds of his half frozen robes.

"Amazing feat," Snape practically purred, "taking on two fully grown mountain trolls and a raging half giant. If one didn't know better, they'd think such a hero might have used dark magic to accomplish such a dangerous task."

"You should know, Snape," Harry hissed back tightly. "Tell me, was it hard transporting both monsters onto Hogwarts' grounds, or did you have outside help?"

Snape narrowed his eyes and took a step closer to Harry, his face slightly pasty and oddly stressed. Harry focused on a point just past the man's shoulder, not giving into the sudden desire to stare him down – clearly remembering the attempt of Snape's to break into his mind.

"Are you suggesting that I had something to do with this?" Snape countered smoothly, barely disguising the anger he was holding back.

"Ah, have I touched another nerve?" Harry taunted with a grim chuckle. "Who else in this castle would have your... uh... connections?"

"How dare..." Snape began demanding through gritted teeth, only to stop suddenly and smile at Harry.

Harry tensed up at Snape's sudden change of attitude, fully expecting to be on the receiving end of a curse. Knowing that Dumbledore, Pomfrey, and McGonagall were focused entirely on Hagrid's fragile condition made him warier then he normally would have been in their presence – as he was fairly certain that nothing short of an explosion would draw them away from their patient.

"You must be in a considerable amount of pain," Snape pointed out, the smile still hovering about his lips, his eyes full of malice as he took a step closer to Harry's feet. "A terrible misfortune indeed, that one so young should be crippled in such a tragic accident."

Harry wrinkled his brow in confusion, his thoughts racing frantically as he tried to read the meaning behind Snape's words. He could sense it, hovering just below the surface of recognition, just beyond reach visible reach. _He knows something,_ Harry realized suddenly as he cast a shrewd glance at the Potion's Master. _He knows how the trolls got onto the grounds... or is he referring to my fall into the lake? That was purely an accident... wasn't it? Or was it!?_

"It must be hard to accept the fact that you will never walk again," Snape continued. "To be stuck in a wheel chair for the rest of your young life, nearly helpless. Your dueling skills will surely suffer as a result."

Harry leaned back and laughed loudly at that, finally realizing what Snape was implying. It felt good to know that Snape was simply trying to cow him, make him doubt his own recovery. "Never fear Snape," Harry barked jovially in reply. "I'll be up on my feet before the second half of term begins, without so much as a limp to remind me of the accident. And don't worry about my skills; they'll be as sharp as ever, just let me know if you ever feel the need to judge for yourself again."

Harry would never know what Snape was going to say in response to his confident rebuttal, because at that moment Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore approached them.

"Good to see the two of you have reconciled your differences," Dumbledore commented off-handedly as he smiled down at Harry and patted Snape's shoulder. "In times like these we can't afford to fight amongst ourselves."

"Will Hagrid be alright?" Harry asked Madam Pomfrey in order to steer the conversation away from Snape and himself.

"He'll pull through," Pomfrey answered promptly as she leaned over Harry's feet and began cleaning them carefully. "A few broken bones, some bruises, and the loss of a considerable amount of blood will take time to mend, but he'll be just fine."

"I'm glad to hear that, he's a good man," Harry murmured in relief.

"Can you tell us what happened, James?" Dumbledore interjected before anyone else could reply.

"I'm afraid there isn't much to tell," Harry told them with a shrug of his shoulders. "I'd been trying to stand for the first time since I first woke up when I heard a roar from outside followed by a loud bang. I had intended to look out the window, thinking it might have been Bea... the hippogriff trying to come inside for the night. I was only half way to the window when something crashed into the side of the hut, making the whole structure shake. I didn't take time to think things through, I simply reacted after that, I thought I was under attack. I blasted my way out of the house, and charged towards the commotion."

McGonagall silently joined those who were listening to Harry's tail, her face worried and drawn as she listened to the unfolding events. Unnoticed by the others, Snape withdrew from the hospital room.

"I still didn't know how serious the situation was until I rounded the corner and stumbled onto the two trolls attacking Hagrid. I knew Hagrid wouldn't last much longer, each time he turned to face one the other would attack him from behind. There was no time to do much more then send up a shower of sparks and prey someone saw them before it was too late," Harry continued. "Distracting one of the trolls was fairly easy; they aren't the brightest creatures, which gave Hagrid a chance to fight the other beast fairly. Desperate, and uncertain of how long we could last or how long I could keep the one trapped, I sent up a second round of sparks. The rest you know."

"Hagrid killed both of the trolls?" Dumbledore asked wearily when Harry fell silent.

"Yes."

"Thank you, James."

"Drink this Mr. Harrison," Madam Pomfrey ordered as both Dumbledore and McGonagall bid Harry goodnight and left him to the healer's care. "It'll dull the pain."

Harry drank as instructed and soon began to feel the burning, stabbing pains receding. Sighing in relief, he sank back onto the bed and slowly drifted off to sleep as Madam Pomfrey began the arduous task of patching up his feet a second time.

* * *

Harry spent the remainder of the winter holidays in the Hospital ward, as did Hagrid, being fussed over day and night by Madam Pomfrey. It was far from cry from how he had originally planned to spend the break, but it could have been much worse; he could have had Snape or Malfoy for company during his days as an invalid. He did quite a bit of thinking during the time he was in the ward and it was not your every day sort of thinking that one finds oneself doing at random intervals. It was more of a very deep and very thorough self examination and complete reevaluation of the direction his life was headed in.

The conclusions Harry drew from these moments of self enlightenment were disturbing, depressing, and slightly mortifying. They also brought with them the realization that he was silently allowing Snape to win by secluding himself the way he had been. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but Harry had never been one to wallow in self-pity for long and by the time he was released from the ward he was filled with a new determination.

Classes resumed without so much as a hiccup, and Harry walked straight and proud, with nary a limp. At the same time, Harry also began taking his meals in the Great Hall with the majority of the staff – much to the dismay and disgruntlement of Severus Snape. Rumors flooded the castle at the abrupt change in his routine, but Harry didn't let them get to him as he poured his heart into the new term.

Any hopes of the sixth and seventh year students having a few weeks of easy review lessons after the holidays were dashed during the first five minutes of their first lesson back. Those five minute were spent handing out the results of their mid year exams and a brief admonitory lecture to practice and study harder.

Harry, his recent revelations still fresh in his mind, stepped up his lessons and dove right into nonverbal spells. He assigned several lengthy essay assignments during the first week and assigned weekend study periods for those students he felt needed the extra practice. Many of the students groaned when they discovered their names on the list for weekend lessons, but none more loudly then young Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

Harry stood his ground firmly though, knowing that what he would learn during these extra hours would help him to survive the last few critical years of the war that was raging around them. Fifteen students in all, every one of them a former DA member, sweated and suffered through three hours of dueling drills, endurance training, and the fundamental basics of wandless magic coupled with nonverbal spell work.

If not for the fact that he worked side by side with the students through each lesson, Harry was sure they would have rebelled after the first two meetings. He was right there with them during every step of the training though, working twice as hard as the students in order to prepare them for their trials ahead.

Professor McGonagall was startled and more then a little concerned when she first learned of these extra lessons. Dumbledore didn't seem to share her reservations though, and Harry was allowed to continue them without interference from any of the other staff members. In fact, once word got around to the other teachers about these weekend sessions, they began dropping by to observe the lessons themselves. A small handful of them, Professor Flitwick and Professor Vector in particular, approached Harry after one particularly grueling class and asked if they could participate the following weekend.

Harry graciously agreed and added Charms and Arithmancy to the busy weekend scheduled. It wasn't long before he was tacking on Ruins and Transfiguration after that, as Professor McGonagall and Professor Tandy changed their opinions of the extra classes. It was a thrilling challenge – tackling new concepts, testing newly learned abilities, and applying practical knowledge to new scenarios each meeting – a challenge that the students began to look forward to and relish as they faced each new task that was thrown at them.

Aside from the time Harry spent tutoring and teaching his students, he searched the library inside out in the hopes of preventing the tragedy he knew was fast approaching. It was a dark shadow that hovered just below consciousness, forever lurking in the back of his mind as the days turned into weeks. Only by clinging to the desperate hope of changing what had happened drove him onward in the frantic race against time.


	13. Lesson 11 – Fighting a Lost Cause

**DISCLAIMER:** _All HP characters are the property of JKR, the WB, and respective publishing companies - this is nothing more than a simple FanFiction that I have written. I have made no money from this or any of the other stories I have posted on this or other sites._

_

* * *

_**Lesson 11 – Fighting a Lost Cause**

As May turned to June, Harry found himself bone weary and jumping at shadows as he haunted the halls of Hogwarts night after night. He'd searched through countless books and delved into a seemingly endless collection of newspapers trying to find something – _any_thing – that could help prevent the tragic events he knew would happen any day.

Tonight his wanderings led him up to the seventh floor of the castle, his eyes focused intently on the ground in front of him as he paced down various corridors. Once he was hailed – accosted really – by a belligerent knight on the back of a pudgy horse inside one of the portraits on the wall, but he ignored the man's shouting and continued on his quest.

Twice Mrs. Norris hissed at him from under a tapestry and twice Harry was tempted to aim a kick or a hex at the nosy cat but both times she darted off into the shadows the moment he caught her eye. _Probably for the best._ Harry grumbled to himself thoughtfully as he paused to lean against a tapestry while he tried to gather his errant thoughts.

As he pushed himself away from the wall, Harry's eyes caught sight of the tapestry he was standing next to and a gleam of recognition entered his eyes. Twisting around, he studied a blank expanse of stone wall immediately opposite of the tapestry and felt hope flare inside him as he hurried back down the hall. Before he reached the end he whipped around and practically ran back past the tapestry. Three times he raced up and down that corridor all the while holding tight to a single thought: _I need to find something that will help me save Dumbledore. Anything, just a hint of how I can prevent his death!_

At the end of his third pass he stumbled to a halt and watched as a single, nondescript door appeared on the previously blank expanse of the wall. Crowing triumphantly, Harry rushed to the door and threw it open in a dramatic flare only to frown in confusion as it revealed a blank section of wall instead of a room.

"What the...?" Harry muttered in puzzlement as he placed his right hand flat against the section of wall behind the door and pushed hard. "Maybe I did it wrong."

Twice more Harry repeated the ritual that would bring the Room of Requirement into existence through his need and twice more all he found was a solid wall behind the door. Harry refused to admit failure though, and kept trying – changing his focus slightly in hopes that the end result would change. He was on his eighteenth consecutive try when an oily voice halted his feet as the door melted into view once more.

"Having fun, are we?"

Harry glanced back over his shoulder as he placed a hand on the handle of the door and tensed slightly as Snape eyed him suspiciously. Mentally berating his lack of caution, Harry quickly opened the door to confirm his eighteenth failure before cursing under his breath and turning around to face Snape as the Potion's Master edged closer with his wand up and pointed at Harry's heart.

"Just what do you think you are doing?" Snape snapped out when Harry began walking away.

"I had heard rumors that a hidden room could provide anything you needed, from some of the students," Harry remarked off hand as he desperately collected his scattered thoughts and reigned in his frustration over his failures. "I thought I'd give it a try but it doesn't seem to be working."

Snape seemed confused for several heartbeats and the two of them stood there silently as both glared daggers at each other. After a time Harry shook his head and tore his gaze away from Snape's muttering under his breath once more as he turned his back on Snape and began walking away.

"You can't hide forever," Snape spat out after him. "I will discover your secrets and then I will see you arrested and punished. You will never find what you were looking for here."

Harry stopped and turned back around to half face Snape as he studied the spiteful glance that was directed at him. "What I was looking for doesn't exist," Harry replied slowly, feeling the truth of his statement cut deeply into his heart as he allowed his eyes to stray to the space where the door to nowhere had stood so many times that night. After a slight hesitation he added, "I can't say it wasn't expected, but I had hoped to help you."

"You expect me to believe that?" Snape demanded hotly.

"No, but I could see your pain," Harry answered with a shrug, a slight grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he fought the urge to laugh. He nearly let a chuckle escape at the confused look on Snape's face.

"And just precisely what did you think would help me?"

"I thought I could find you an ounce of talent," Harry barked cheekily as he ducked behind a suit of armor and disappeared through a hidden passage way that he'd recalled from his school days. "And maybe a sense of humor to go with it," he added once he was out of Snape's sight.

The echo of Snape's loud, petulant cry echoes down the passageway as Harry laughs softly to himself at the Potion Master's response. It had just been too perfect an opportunity to miss sending a jab or two at the greasy-git, and it helped avoid a repeat of the disastrous duel from the previous term. Harry's good mood lasted only for a few minutes though, as the weight of his discovery pressed back down on him as he made his way back to his rooms.

"There has to be a way to stop it," Harry breathed out in desperation as he paused with his hand on the door outside of his office. "I can't believe that there is no way to stop it." Nodding sharply to himself he opened the door and stepped inside his office, using his wand to light the numerous candles that decorated the walls and tables.

Shrugging out of his robe he draped the burgundy garment over a stool that stood just behind the door before approaching his desk. He studied the voluminous tower of parchment rolls that represented the latest round of essays from his younger students and with a resigned sigh he rolled up his shirt sleeves and sat down in his chair to begin the tedious process of grading illegible scrawls of eleven, twelve, and thirteen year olds.

Three essays into the pile, Harry came across one that reminded him poignantly of Ron in their second year. Chuckling to himself at the fond memory, Harry read the short paragraph out loud to himself as Ron's face full of terrified fear and disgust loomed in his mind's eye.

"Spiders are the biggest most disgusting _thing_ ever to walk upon the earth and the larger the spider the more hideous it becomes. All spiders should be squashed on sight and no sane person would even think of drinking a potion that had spider legs, spider eggs, or spider venom. No one would be that stupid!"

Harry dropped the parchment as he doubled over in laughter at the end of the last sentence. Shaking his head he fought to control his mirth, it wasn't really very kind or responsible of him to make fun of a student's fear. Dipping his quill in a bottle of deep red ink, he marked a large 'D' across the top of the essay and penned out a short note for the boy, one Boswell Hardy, to come and see him after class. Done, he set down his quill and waved the paper back and forth a few times to dry the ink before rolling it back up and setting it in the box with the rest of the third year essays that had already been graded.

Seven more essays and he found himself falling half asleep as he tried to grasp the details of a three foot essay, a good two foot longer then he assigned, about the distinctive characteristics of a newly hatched Acromantula and how to distinguish it from a large tarantula, the uses of each in potions and spells, and the list of restrictions on dealing with Acromantulas. This time it was Hermione he thought of as he scrawled an 'O' across the top of the Ravenclaw's essay after comparing the basic points with his own knowledge of the large and deadly spider.

Adding that essay to the relatively small pile of graded papers, he sighed and sagged back in his chair as he thoughts returned to his unsuccessful foray into the Room of Requirement just a short while earlier. Depression weighed heavily on his soul as he wondered which effort was more futile; finishing the grading before he went to bed or finding the answer he so desperately sought.

Before his thoughts could fall any deeper into antipathy he was startled by the arrival of Aries, the snow-white owl he'd been entrusted with by his still unknown benefactor. The bird landed gracefully on the arm of the chair Harry sat in and promptly extended one foot out in an unspoken command. Murmuring softly, Harry obeyed the bird's silent request and removed the slip of parchment that the owl had carried to him.

Once free of his burden, Aries hooted regally before taking off in a swirl of feathers that sent the pile of ungraded essays tumbling off of the desk. Biting back the course curse that leapt to the tip of his tongue, he unrolled the note he received and quickly scanned the message.

_James, _

_You have admirably carried out your assignment up to  
this point. Please do not loose sight of the intended goal  
this close to completion. What you seek is not possible._

_PJH ~ HJP_

Anger raged through Harry as he crumpled the note in his fist and jumped to his feet with a ragged growl. _Months on end of nothing,_ Harry ranted internally as he stormed out of his office and up the stairs that led to his personal quarters. _Not one damn note since the duel with Snape and now I'm being chastised like an errant child caught sneaking into the biscuits!_

Abruptly Harry stopped climbing and sagged against the wall as his depression came back tenfold. Pressing a hand across his eyes, he took a deep breath in an effort to calm his raging emotions. Throwing a tantrum was not going to change anything so there was no real point in working himself up to a lather at this point. Dropping his hand away from his face he opened the note once more and smoothed out the crinkles as he read the note one more time.

"I'm not going to give up hope," he announced to the air as he carefully folded the message and tucked it into his back pocket with deliberate care and consideration. "I refuse to walk away from even the slightest chance that things can be changed."

Filled with renewed determination, Harry returned to his office below and methodically collected the spilled essays, restacked them on his desk, and reclaimed his chair. Unrolling one of the parchments, he took up his quill and focused all his attention on the words that seemed to swim across the page; unaware of the silent tears that trailed down his cheeks as he mourned a truth he refused to acknowledge.

Over the next two weeks Harry repeatedly visited the Room of Requirement each night, religiously attempting to force the room to conform to his needs. Each night he left feeling as frustrated and depressed as the first night he'd attempted to open the room. Thankfully, Snape had not interrupted his forays after that first night, though the Potion's Master watched Harry with an unreadable expression on his face each time they were in the same room.

Harry worried that he'd given something away that night, when he flippantly mocked the slippery Slytherin, but if he did Snape took no advantage of it. And that was worrisome in its self, knowing that Snape's hate had not diminished one iota since the beginning of the year. Harry was incapable of being any more on the edge then he already was though, and Snape's odd behavior and lack of attack was pushed to the back of his mind as he prepared the final test for his students and doggedly searched for the barest thread of hope.

Tonight, his fifteenth night of attempting to access the Room of Requirement, Harry stood in front of the bare expanse of wall where the room waited to be called into service with his head titled to one side as he mentally reviewed all of the various ways he'd already used to summon the room. So wrapped up in his pondering, he failed to notice he wasn't alone until the sound of a throat being cleared startled him from his reverie.

Panicking he whipped out his wand and dove to his left as he twisted his body around to face the intruder. Chagrin washed through him a heartbeat later as he realized that he was pointing his wand at Professor Dumbledore, who smiled knowingly at Harry with no trace of worry.

"Sorry, sir," Harry mumbled apologetically as he lowered his wand and climbed unsteadily to his feet as his face flushed bright red at being caught off guard by the Headmaster.

Dumbledore flashed a tight grin at Harry in response, his eyes twinkling for a second before a stern mask fell into place as the Headmaster addressed him. "It is of little consequence," Dumbledore intoned while waving away Harry's concern with his left hand. "You have been a difficult man to track down these last few days and it is imperative that I speak with you."

"I've been... occupied with a difficult... problem that I was hoping to solve," Harry hedged as he fell into step beside Dumbledore and the two of them began walking down the hall away from the Room of Requirement.

"Of course," Dumbledore acknowledged. "We must discuss your intentions behind your attempts to enter the Come and Go Room. But that is not what I wanted to discuss with you right now, Harry"

Harry stumbled at Dumbledore's mention of the Room of Requirement, dimly recognizing the name that was commonly used by the house elves for the magical room that could be manipulated by concentrated thoughts. So startled that Dumbledore knew he'd been repeatedly trying to use the room that he didn't even catch the significant use of his true name.

"I... I mean n-no harm," Harry stammered out rapidly, his face going from red to white in the blink of an eye. "I'm not trying to put it to any dark use, I just –"

"I didn't say your intentions weren't honorable," Dumbledore interrupted as he stopped walking and turned to face Harry directly. "You were always determined to do the right thing, Harry, and I don't expect you've changed much over the intervening years.

This time the use of his given name made Harry's heart skip several beats as the rest of the blood drained from his face. He opened and closed his mouth several times but no sound emerged, his thoughts too frantic to manage even an expletive at the shocking revelation that Dumbledore knew who he was.

Dumbledore smiled reassuringly as he gently grasped Harry's elbow and effortlessly pulled him along down the hall as he started walking once more. "Clever," Dumbledore stated quietly as they turned the corner and headed down a flight of stairs. "I didn't even begin to suspect you were anyone other then who you claimed to be, not until after you dueled with Severus before Christmas. Even then, I wasn't sure who you were, so seamlessly did you wear your disguise. It was the –"

Dumbledore cut off his explanation as they reached the fifth floor and they heard voices from just up ahead. Both men paused and listened as a woman's voice floated to them.

"– _he was deeply impressed, of course, deeply impressed... I was staying at the –"_**

Harry recognized Professor Trelawney's voice just a fraction of a second before Dumbledore did, he also knew exactly what the mediocre seer was talking about and to whom she spoke. Even before his own voice echoed against the surrounding walls, he knew it was his younger self standing there beside the drunken professor as she unknowingly revealed the name of the man whose spying had turned Voldemort's attention to his parents two decades earlier.

Dumbledore hissed in exasperation as he glanced over at Harry, seemingly torn between what he wanted to discuss and the discovery that the younger Harry was storming off in the direction of his office. Reluctantly Dumbledore released Harry's arm and pursed his lips for a brief moment before nodding his head once.

"Escort Sybil down to Hagrid's hut, we will finish this conversation after I have dealt with this nest of vipers," Dumbledore ordered tersely before he vanished.

Cussing sharply at the ill-timed interruption, Harry strode forward to find an indecisive Trelawney standing uncertainly in the middle of the corridor. She jumped out of her skin as he walked up and touched her shoulder, a small squawk erupting from her lips at being caught unawares.

"My pardon, Sybil," Harry intoned as he carefully drew her towards the stairs. "I didn't mean to startle you. I was on my way down to Hagrid's hut and I was wondering if you'd be so kind as to accompany me."

"Hagrid's?" Trelawney repeated in a tremulous tone as her eyes widened nervously.

"Yes, I have been meaning to speak with you about one of the third year students," Harry improvised as he continued to lead her down through the castle, his full attention on convincing her to come with him. "He shows promising intuition and I wanted to find out if he has been developing his divination talent under your tutelage."

"Of course," Trelawney readily agreed as she struggled to regain her composure. "Wouldn't it be more prudent to speak of such lofty matters in my classroom though? Hagrid isn't very receptive with matters concerning the Inner Eye."

"Normally I'd agree completely," Harry countered firmly as they reached the third floor and waited for the stairs to settle into place so they could continue downward. "However, I promised Hagrid that I'd speak with him tonight. I can't back out of the obligation and I truly don't want to pass up the opportunity to discuss such an important development with you."

"You are correct," Trelawney conceded as she stopped dragging her feet. "I knew we'd hold this conversation within the groundskeeper's house tonight, but I didn't want to appear presumptuous by pointing that out immediately, in the event that such a revelation brought ill-luck down on our heads."

"I completely understand," Harry gravely stated as he heaved a silent sigh of relief.

"It is Faloura Hampton that you wished to speak of, isn't it?" Trelawney predicted as they reached the main floor, her voice taking on a mystical intonation as she attempted to appear mystically and magically knowledgeable.

"What?" Harry inquired as he hustled her towards the exit. "Oh, yes, of course. I forgot you'd know all about each one of the promising students in the school – whether they attended your classes or not."

"As it should be," Sybil explained patiently, completely ignoring Harry's slight slip up. "Who better to guide a diviner's internal awareness but one such as I?"

Harry murmured agreement as they walked, paying only enough attention to the woman's ongoing commentary to interject appropriate comments every now and then as he focused on a vague sense of impending doom that hovered just below conscious thought.

When they reached Hagrid's home, Harry absently knocked on the door as Sybil droned on about the planet's alignment at the precise moment of a seer's birth. Nodding gravely as she appeared to glory in his apparent attention, only a slight twinge of guilt streaking through him over the fact that he was leading her on.

"James? What are yeh doin' here at this time o' the night?" Hagrid wondered as the half-giant opened the door and frowned at the two of them.

"You made me promise to come out tonight," Harry prompted hurriedly as Trelawney trailed off and turned to stare at Harry with a frown. "Remember, you wanted to talk to me tonight?"

"I must have fergot," Hagrid rumbled after giving Harry a confused frown.

"I hope you don't mind that I brought Sybil with me, we were caught up in a fascinating discussion about the portents surrounding the birth of seers and how to determine if a student is open to the aura of ones Inner Eye."

"Quite all right I guess," Hagrid reluctantly agreed as he opened the door wider and invited them inside. "Have a seat and I'll put on some tea."

Harry smiled his thanks and hurried Trelawney inside before she could change her mind about staying. As he passed close to Hagrid he whispered a soft "I'll explain later." before settling Sybil into a chair gallantly.

Two hours later, long after the tea had been exchanged for mulled wine and strong ale, Harry laughed softly as Trelawney and Hagrid exchanged bawdy jokes and stories about various professors who had taught at Hogwarts over the years. Both of them drunker than skunks and completely unaware of how incongruous their camaraderie was in light of their former mutual disinterest in each other.

Harry was just glancing down at his watch for the hundredth time, wondering how much longer it would be until Dumbledore arrived, when he happened to glance out of the nearest window. His heart leapt into his throat and he shoved himself to his feet with a startled yelp while his blood froze in his veins.

Outside, high above the Astronomy Tower, glittering tauntingly bright, was the Dark Mark.

"No!" Harry cried in agony as he bolted for the door to Hagrid's hut before the other two fully understood what was going on. "_PROFESSOR!_ Not again. Please, don't let me be too late!"

Blindly, he ran towards the castle, his feet carrying him forward as he desperately strained to see what was happening up in the unseen heights of the tower. When he caught sight of a green flash of light and witnessed a darker shadow being thrown from the top of the tower he stumbled over his own feet and his momentum carried him several yards forward before he could right himself. Raising his wand, he cast the first spell that came to mind, a cushioning spell that slowed the downward plunge of the body that tumbled from the tower. Staggering back onto his feet he rushed forward once more in time to catch Dumbledore's lifeless body in his arms before it could hit the ground.

"Professor," Harry bawled, "please, be alright! Professor, Sir? _Albus!_" Choking on his own sobs, his hands clutched Dumbledore tightly against his chest and rocked back and forth. He knew it was pointless, there was no cure for death and Dumbledore had died the moment the green light of the killing curse had struck him.

Anger, hot and fierce, surged through him, white hot and out of control. Tenderly he lowered Dumbledore to the ground and rose to his feet, pulling his wand out of his pocket as he wiped away his tears of grief. "I failed to prevent your death a second time, sir, but this time the man responsible will not escape."

Setting his bearings, Harry trotted off into the night, never looking back as he rushed towards a confrontation he'd been waiting on for over ten years. He never saw his younger self discover Dumbledore's corpse nor did he hear Hagrid's hoarse cries of disbelief.

HR

** Direct quote taken from The Half Blood Prince, Chapter 25, bottom of page 544, in the US paperback edition. (Trelawney speaks of her interview with Dumbledore, sixteen years prior, to Harry.)

**AN:** _Please don't kill me! I know some of my readers were hoping that I would have Harry change/fix the events that took place at the end of the 6__th__ book, but it is important that the past remained unchanged - at least in this story of mine! _

_Thank you for sticking out these last few months and thank you to everyone who left me a review! Keep watch on my author's page for news as to when the next chapter will be out! – Jenn_


	14. Lesson 12 – Final Confrontations

**DISCLAIMER:** _All HP characters are the property of JKR, the WB, and respective publishing companies - this is nothing more than a simple FanFiction that I have written. I have made no money from this or any of the other stories I have posted on this or other sites._

_

* * *

_**Lesson 12 – Final Confrontations**

Harry reached the gates leading out of the school as a series of colorful flashes lit the up grounds – he knew it was the pathetic duel between his younger self and Snape. A brighter light bloomed against the night sky as Hagrid's hut went up in flames, Hagrid's angry holler floating out into the night as he lamented the fact that Fang and Trelawney were trapped inside the burning building.

A small shadow was heading towards Harry, a deeper black against the disrupted night. He knew it had to be Malfoy, but he didn't give his former rival a second thought as Snape's voice grew louder – his taunts hitting Harry twofold as his memory merged with the present. An angry screech sliced through the grounds as Buckbeak attacked Snape in defense of his younger self and Harry pushed all emotions from his thoughts as he raised his wand and waited for the moment Snape would flee the school grounds. Fleeing from him – only to flee towards him.

Poised, and completely unexpected, Harry hit Snape the moment his former Potions Master stepped through the gates with a solid upper cut. The already winded and wounded man crumpled at the contact and as his body dropped towards the ground Harry reached out and grabbed hold of Snape's arm and apparated blindly away from the school before his younger self looked up from the ground.

He crashed to the ground nearly a minute later, letting Snape's unconscious form flop unceremoniously onto the floor while he made a quick search of their surroundings to make certain they hadn't been followed. His eyes took in the handful of thin, brittle bones that were scattered about the floor and the rough hewn walls without recognizing his location right away. It wasn't until he spotted a few pale gray feathers that had been windswept into the furthest corner that he began to dimly recall visiting this cave many years ago.

With memory came grief though, for the last time Harry had entered the tiny stone pocket was during his fourth year at Hogwarts when he'd slipped away from Hogsmeade with Ron and Hermione to visit Sirius during the Triwizard Tournament. Shaking back the distracting glimpses of his past, he made his way to the entrance and searched for signs of recent visitors.

Completely satisfied that they would not be found anytime soon, Harry returned to where he'd left Snape and retrieved Snape's wand while at the same time pocketing his own. Retreating several steps, he dropped down into a crouch and spent a few minutes wrestling his raging emotions back into some semblance of control while he waited for Severus to regain consciousness.

It was several hours before Snape showed any signs of moving, and Harry shifted his weight slightly to the left as his tightly coiled muscles protested the prolonged strain of holding the position. He refused to acknowledge his discomfort though, his attention focused completely on the man stirring just a few feet away, his hands twirling Snape's wand back and forth. The silence finally broken by muttered groans and curses as Snape became aware of his various injuries.

"Have any pleasant dreams, Snivellus?" Harry asked in a deceptively calm voice.

Snape froze for a split second at the sound of Harry's voice, and then leapt into action as he fumbled for his wand, his movements stiff and uncoordinated from both his injuries and the fog that clouded his mind.

"Looking for something?" Harry inquired with solicitous sarcasm, a hard edge cutting through in spite of his tight control on his emotions.

"Give me my wand, Harrison," Snape demanded as he faced Harry and caught sight of the object that Harry was rolling back and forth between his palms.

"Is this your wand? I didn't know," Harry stated slowly, holding the wand out between his two hands so he could look at both Snape and the wand simultaneously. He waited until Snape reached out a hand towards him and then he jerked both hands down with as much force as he could muster, effectively snapping the wand in half as it came into contact with his knee. "You won't need a wand where you are going, Snivellus."

Harry passively watched as Snape's face contorted with uncontrolled rage, waiting to see if the man would charge him physically. Like watching a Quidditch play in slow motion through a set of Omnioculars, Harry knew what Snape would do before it happened and he was ready for the desperate lunge that Snape attempted. Rolling almost lazily to his left as Severus flailed wildly past him; Harry twisted around so that he faced Snape once more.

Again Snape charged blindly at Harry. This time, Harry remained where he was until the last minute when he pushed up hard. He felt his head connect with Snape's chest and felt the other man's breath knocked out from the force of the impact. Grunting at the backlash of pain, Harry wrapped his left arm around Snape and gave Snape's side three quick jabs with his right before planting his foot in the other man's stomach and shoving his away.

Assuming a boxer's stance, Harry waited while Snape recovered from the attack. This time, Snape used a touch of caution when he closed with Harry, and the two of them traded a dozen or more blows before Harry managed to flip Snape over his back and into a table the nearest wall.

Blood trickled from a gash on Harry's cheek and from several scraps on his hands and arms. Snape looked just as bad with a bloody nose, black eye, and split lip. The Slytherin was not one to give up though, and Harry barely dodged his next attack by spinning on his heel and dropping down to one knee.

Throwing out his hands, he captured Snape's left ankle and the Potion's Master crashed face first onto the floor. Jumping up to his feet once more, Harry felt his left knee give with a burst of pain that destroyed his concentration. He tried to recover, but Snape was on him before he could compensate for his damaged leg and this time Harry crashed to the floor with Snape landing on top of him.

He felt Snape's fist connect with his face twice before he felt the man's hands encircle his neck and begin pressing down with deadly intent. Struggling against the rushing darkness, Harry dug the fingers of one hand under the lower ridge of Snape's ribs, jabbing deeply with stiffened fingers three times in rapid succession. The moment Snape's fingers loosened in surprise and pain, Harry twisted around and bucked Snape off of him in the blink of an eye and brought his wand out of his pocket and into play in the same smooth motion – a trick he'd learned during his years in the academy.

"Losing your touch, aren't you Snivellus?" Harry taunted ruthlessly, his throat throbbing painfully, as he fired the Levicorpus spell at Snape and watched as his body was flipped upside down and dangled several feet above the ground. Deep inside, a small part of him was shocked and appalled at his cruel treatment of the man before him. The voice that said it was wrong was drowned out though, by the grief, anger, and hatred that had festered for twelve years while Harry had hunted down the man responsible for Dumbledore's death. It didn't help that the unhealed emotional wounds had been torn asunder once more by living through the heart wrenching event a second time. There was also guilt raging through Harry, guilt at failing to prevent Dumbledore's death when he had the chance.

"_I will kill you for this!_" Snape roared violently as he twisted madly within the invisible bonds that held him suspended in the air. "I will make you scream until you can hear it echoing in your ears. I will give you such pain that you will beg me to kill you, and then I will give you more pain! I will –"

"Such viciousness from a _reformed_ Death Eater," Harry sneered as he waggled his wand hand, causing Snape to bob up and down several times. "So full of wounded dignity, one could almost forget that you were a cold blooded murderer."

"You know nothing!" Snape hissed.

"Wrong, Snivellus," Harry countered tightly as he rose to his feet and stepped closer to Snape. "I know exactly what you did, you murdered Albus Dumbledore. You betrayed his trust when he needed you most. You stared at him in cold blood as you fired the killing curse that blasted him from the roof of that tower tonight."

"You grasp at straws in hopes of fumbling upon the truth," Snape growled, only the slight tell-tale presence of sweat trickling down his brow betrayed his lie. "There were no witnesses to what occurred up in the tower, Dumbledore was already dead when Malfoy threw his body over the side."

"Malfoy didn't have the guts to follow through with his orders," Harry stated with certainty. "You fired the curse that took Dumbledore's life when Draco's resolve failed him."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do," Harry explained hoarsely as his whole body began trembling with suppressed rage. "Draco was on the verge of accepting Dumbledore's offer of protection for him and his family, his nerves frayed beyond recovery. It was at that point that you bounded out through the door with a small group of fellow Death Eaters. With one sweeping glance you knew what had taken place on the tower, and as Dumbledore begged for your help, you cut him down heartlessly."

"There was no one else on that roof!" Snape ground out desperately.

"That is where you were wrong. Dumbledore was not alone when he landed on that rooftop, there was one other person who witnessed everything," Harry quietly revealed as he lost control of his emotions. "I. Was. There. I saw the whole thing, and you never knew I was there. Not the first time, and not this time!"

Snape recoiled as if he'd been physically hit by Harry's admission, his face a sickly shade of gray.

"You will not live to harm another," Harry yelled as he raised his wand and pointed it at Snape's heart. "For twelve years I have hunted for you so that you could be punished for your actions. Twelve long years I dreamt of having you at my mercy for once as you begged for your life and freedom. You should have been given to the dementors when you handed my parents over to Voldemort on that fateful night!"

Harry ignored the confusion that warred with the fear that he saw in Snape's eyes, too many years of suppressed emotions were tearing at him and all he cared about was revenge. He didn't even care that he'd all but revealed his true identity to the man dangling before him, what did it matter any way? Snape was going to die.

"Harry, lower your wand," a man ordered as he hobbled out from the shadows at the back of the room. "You don't want to do this thing, no matter how much your anger cries for vengeance. It is not your way."

Both Harry and Snape flinched at the site of the old man who had seemingly appeared out of thin air. Harry didn't lower his wand though, and it took all of his strength not to turn away so that he could finish what he started. Twice he tried to fire the spell that was sitting on the tip of his tongue, and twice his conscience cut the words off before they'd made it past his lips. His arm trembled and tears of grief and frustration pooled in his emerald eyes as his anger turned brittle and shattered.

"It is over, Harry," the man repeated. Harry offered no resistance as the man gently forced his arm down and took his wand out of his hand. "It's over."

Harry turned his back on Snape then and walked away, temporarily letting go of his burning hatred. Without his anger the grief he'd been holding back rushed up and overwhelmed him, drowning out everything else. Strength gone, he dropped to his knees and let his tears flow freely as he'd not done since he'd been a small boy. He cried for his parents, whom he never really knew. He cried for his lost godfather, lost so suddenly when he'd just begun to know him. He cried for his missing friends, those brave souls who had not survived the second war and those he left behind in the far distant future. He cried for his lost love, Ginny, and he cried for himself. And he cried over what he'd almost become in his quest for vengeance.

He cried until his tears no longer flowed, and then he cried still – his soul awash in an unending flood of remembered loss and pain. On and on the tide carried him, freeing him of burdens he hadn't even realized he carried. Until at last he fell, exhausted, into a deep sleep; a soul healing sleep without dreams and nightmare's to trouble him.

When he woke, he found himself tucked securely beneath a light blanket in a vaguely familiar room. He felt weak and empty – completely wrung out – his body aching and throbbing painfully from the wounds received during his fist fight with Snape. Turning his head to one side, he could make out a three paneled screen, the kind used in the Hospital Ward to provide patients with a semblance of privacy, though he couldn't remember how he had gotten there.

Frowning he rolled his head back to the other side, only to discover a second screen on that side. Shaking his head to clear the fog, he attempted to push himself up on one elbow. The effort it took dragged a tortured moan from his lips as a fresh wave of pain. Only sheer determination prevented him from sinking back into the darkness from which he'd woken. Eventually the dizziness retreated and he could make out the soft murmur of voices rising and falling from just beyond his tiny world inside the screens.

"Wh... who's there?" he croaked out as loud as he could.

"Professor Harrison?" a young lady's tear filled voice replied tremulously.

The mumbling voices grew louder, accompanied by the sound of hard soled shoes tapping on a tile or stone floor. A moment later Hermione slipped between the frames and offered him a friendly, if sad, smile that ended in a gasp as she caught sight of his bruised face.

"Professor!?"

"That good, huh?" Harry asked dryly, his voice rasping slightly from the dryness and tenderness in his throat.

"I didn't mean... it's just that your face... and your neck… what I mean is..." Hermione hesitated between apologizing and explaining, her face reddening with embarrassment over her desire to be truthful and fear of offending.

"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed as he peered around Hermione to see who she'd been talking to. "What happened to your –"

"Ron!" Hermione hissed angrily while shushing him with a sharp cut of her hand.

"I'm quite aware of how I must look, Her... Ms. Granger," Harry stated with a grim chuckle.

"Where were you?" younger Harry demanded as he pushed in past Ron and glared unknowingly at his older self. "Why weren't you helping to fight the Death Eaters?"

Harry matched his younger self's glare with a cool stare as he awkwardly attempted to sit up – his muscles protesting each inch gained. A flicker of movement off to his right, showed Ron and Hermione both shrinking back, as if they didn't want to be noticed or caught up in what looked to develop into an argument or worse, but eagerly waiting to hear his answer.

"I owe you no answer, Mr. Potter," Harry answered calmly, leaning forward and rushing on when the younger Harry opened his mouth to interrupt. "However, I also have nothing to hide and will, this once, willingly answer your questions." Taking a deep, steadying breath, Harry changed positions in order to ease the physical strain of supporting himself before continuing. "Where was I? I was with Hagrid and Trelawney, down at Hagrid's hut. We didn't even know there was trouble up at the castle until we saw the Dark Mark floating above the castle."

"How'd you get hurt then?" Ron wondered aloud before younger Harry could ask another question.

Harry knew he couldn't mention Snape and the fact that he had caught the man fleeing from the school. He wasn't to know the traitor's fate until he himself discovered it when he came back. _A fine kettle of stew I've allowed myself to be dropped into._ Harry grumbled to himself as he sought a reasonable answer that held enough truth to be believable.

"Fighting for my life," Harry replied simply.

"Professor Dumbl... Dumbledore said I could trust you with my life," the younger Harry admitted a touch sullenly as he let his gaze drop to the floor. "He thought Snape could be trusted, too."

Harry closed his eyes and fought back the wave of grief that threatened to drown him as memories crashed through his mind's eye.

_He'd abandoned Professor Trelawney after learning that it had been Snape that had overheard her giving that wretched prophecy. He'd run away from her, his anger swelling inside him, and ran towards Dumbledore's office intent upon confronting the Headmaster to discover the truth. Hate lurked just behind his anger too, hate towards Snape for the part he played in his parents' death. Knowing the man willingly turned his mother and father over to Lord Voldemort when he passed on the information to his lord and master. It galled that this information had been withheld from him at the end of last year._

Harry closed his eyes and shook his head to rid his mind of the terrible memory, but all he had succeeded in doing was jumping forward to the next memory.

"_How could you trust Snape after he handed my parents to Voldemort?" Harry roared as he stood before Dumbledore with his fists clenched. _

"_He didn't know who the prophecy pointed to, didn't know who would end up murdered for half a prophecy," Dumbledore calmly countered. _

"_He hated my parents though, he hated Sirius and Remus too," Harry countered heatedly. "He would have been thrilled to destroy any of them given the chance!"_

"_He regretted his part in their deaths," Dumbledore soothed, "he knew it had been a mistake, which is why he came to me."_

"_A mistake? A MISTAKE?" Harry roared back, desperately struggling to control his anger as it overwhelmed the excitement he felt over the fact that Dumbledore had discovered the location of one of Voldemort's Horcruxes. _

"_I trust him Harry," Dumbledore sternly stated as he met Harry's glare with calm regard. "You can not go you're your entire life without trusting it to someone at some point. Without trust you stand alone, always and forever. You know you can trust your friends, you know you can trust the Order, and you should trust know that you can trust both Professor Snape and Professor Harrison with your life."_

"_How do you know I can trust either of them? One's a hypocritical, petty brute and the other can't possibly be who he says he is, and even if he was, how can you compare him to Snape? Snape's half the reason my parent's are dead! He's still plotting even now!"_

"Still plotting," Harry growled under his breath as he jerked his mind away from the memories once more. Anger boiled forth as he remembered that he'd had Snape right where he'd wanted him, had been a breath away from dispensing long awaited justice when he'd been interrupted by that old man. "Where are they? What happened to Snivellus?"

"He got away," younger Harry wailed angrily, "I let him get away."

Harry flinched; he hadn't realized he'd spoken out loud until his younger self had replied to his questions. Pushing away his own guilt and anger Harry looked closer at the three standing rigidly before him and he felt protectiveness well up inside him. He felt his responsibilities weighing down on him for the first time in a long time and he pressed both hands to his face briefly before addressing those standing near him.

"It was no fault of yours, Harry," Harry told himself gently. "You did your best to hold him. I saw parts of your duel, but was unable to help as I was battling myself at that point. Justice will find him though, wherever he ran to, justice will follow and he will pay for his crimes."

"You don't really like him do you?" Hermione inquired in a soft whisper, he face filled with concern as she took a single step forward.

"We hated each other from the moment we first saw each other," Harry answered truthfully with a weak laugh. "Did you think otherwise?"

Both Ron and young Harry had the grace to blush and Harry chuckled at them before sinking back onto the bed with a small sigh. "Would you like further proof?" he asked lightly. Holding up his left arm he rolled his shirt sleeve down to bare his arm to just above the elbow, revealing several bruises and scraps on otherwise unmarred flesh. "I'd never sink low enough to wear the mark of a man I hate more then Severus Snape."

"Why do you hate Voldemort so much?" young Harry asked as he focused on his arm.

"I see you are awake, Professor Harrison," Madam Pomfrey announced briskly as she strode past the screens with a tray of potions. "What are you three doing out of bed?" she demanded when she caught sight of the trio standing within the dividers. "And pestering the good Professor when he needs his rest as well! Shoo, be off with you!"

Harry was torn at the interruption, he wanted to answer the questions but at the same time he was glad he didn't have to. Instead he watched the three teens filtered out of the private bubble around his bed and listened to the rattle of bottles as Pomfrey mixed a potion for him to take.

Five minutes later Harry was choking down a thick greenish liquid that tasted like stewed cucumbers, frog legs, and cabbage. He was wondering if the woody after taste might be beetle eyes when he was given a second glass filled with a rich red potion. Tossing the second one back was much easier then the first and within seconds he was slipping back down into a deep sleep as he felt his aches and pains fading.

When he woke up next the divider screens were gone and so was the intense pain he'd had upon waking the first time. Sitting up slowly he still felt a bit weak, though he didn't let that stop him from looking around the ward. Across from him he could see Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour holding hands and talking softly to each other. In another bed Neville was sitting up pointedly not looking at a bed on the far end of the ward that was covered with screen similar to those that had previously surrounded Harry.

Harry didn't want to think about who was lying behind those screens either, instead he let his gaze wander over to a few beds off to his right and discovered Flitwick smiling sadly back at him as their eyes met across the empty beds in between.

Harry offered a tight grin in return before he closed his eyes and leaned back with a heartfelt sigh. Even what anger remained at Snape didn't compare to the grief he felt each time he remembered failing to save Dumbledore. Shifting left and right he tried to get comfortable once more but each turn only intensified the stiffness of the sheets, the solidness of the mattress under his body, and the mustiness of each ragged breath he took. Each texture offensive to his senses as he dwelled on the fact that the man laid out on the bed behind the screen would never have another opportunity to feel the same.

With a bitter choked out roar Harry thrust his covers away and rolled out of bed only to stumble as his feet lagged a heartbeat behind. Not caring if he fell on his face – not noticing the worried frowns of the other patients – he pushed away from the bed and strode toward the exit as best he could.

"Where do you think you are going?" Madam Pomfrey demanded as she rushed out of her office to find the cause of the disturbance.

Harry glanced over his shoulder but didn't answer her as he tore open the door and left the ward. He was hunting answers and nothing was going to stand in his way – not even the weakness that threatened to bring him to his knees.

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**AN:** _Only one more chapter left to post now. Final chapter should be up sometime before this coming weekend. _


	15. Epilogue – Saying Goodbye Again

**DISCLAIMER:** _All HP characters are the property of JKR, the WB, and respective publishing companies - this is nothing more than a simple FanFiction that I have written. I have made no money from this or any of the other stories I have posted on this or other sites._

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_**Epilogue – Saying Goodbye Again**

Two days later found Harry standing at the back of a large gathering of witches and wizards from all over the world. They had come to pay their final respects to one former hero: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore as he was laid to rest within the Hogwarts' grounds. His mind was not really on the ceremony that was taking place, his thoughts flickering between the present and the future he'd left behind.

His eyes drifted over the assemblage, seeing the back of Grawp's head, the annoying little bow on Dolores Umbridge's headband, hundreds of pointed hats in numerous shades of dark blues, greens, browns, and blacks, and Rufus Scrimgeour standing up in front of everyone. Grief cut through the fog that enshrouded Harry and he backed up a step as if to run, when suddenly Hagrid was there carrying Dumbledore's body towards his final resting place.

Pain shot through Harry's heart and soul and he was drawn forward several paces with his arm outstretched as if to take back the reality and finality of death. A sob bubbled up from between his lips and he closed his eyes and bowed his head while he slowly dropped his arm back to his side.

"A single man can not hope to turn back the tide that is time – no matter how noble the cause," A man's voice declared softly with more then a hint of regret adding a roughness to the quality of the sound.

Harry's eyes snapped open, startled by the voice and reached for his wand as he turned to face the old man who now stood next to him. Familiarity hit him like a brick wall and some of Harry's anger came rushing back as he clearly recalled this same man interfering in Snape's log over due justice.

"You would have hated yourself more then you hate me now if I had let you do what you wanted to do," the old man rasped gently as he met Harry's glare with calm certainty. "You were not brought here to change the past or to hand out sentences, you were asked to come because of the knowledge and skills you possess."

"Who are you?" Harry asked heatedly. "Wait, where is he? What did you do to him? Did you let him go?"

The old man stared at him for a few minutes before nodding, apparently to himself, as he let his gaze wander back to the front of the crowd where Hagrid was gently laying Dumbledore in his final resting place. He didn't speak again until the tomb was sealed shut with a burst of flame and what he said didn't really answer any of Harry's questions.

"Justice has been served."

Harry opened his mouth to fire off a furious retort when a wave of murmuring voices swept over them where they stood. Dumbledore's funeral was over and everyone was moving – some pressed forward to whisper a final farewell over the tomb, some drifted off towards the village as they wept and smiled sadly in turns, and still others just stood before their seats gazing off into the distance completely unaware of the tears that poured down their face.

Closing his mouth without speaking, Harry turned away from the disturbing man's presence and watched as his younger self was accosted by Scrimgeour. There were no old memories rushing through him now though, that moment was etched into his soul nearly as deep as Dumbledore's death and the final battle.

"Dumbledore's man through and through," Harry whispered to himself, pride and acceptance taking the edge off of the grief he still felt.

"Through this life and the next," the old man added as he turned to see what Harry was looking at. He reached into his coat pocket then and pulled out a thick, aged envelope that was sealed with gold and red wax and handed it to Harry. "I was asked to see that this was handed to you personally."

Harry accepted the envelope hesitantly, a puzzled expression on his face as he stared at the familiar handwriting that scrawled his name across the front of the old parchment. Dread filled him as his heart began pounding in his chest, his breaths catching as the answers to his questions hovered just beyond reach. When he finally looked up from the unopened letter to ask his questions once more, he found himself completely alone.

The witches, wizards, and magical creatures who had come to say farewell to the venerable warlock Dumbledore were gone. How he had missed hearing them go, he couldn't say – not that he really cared where they had all vanished too.

Tucking the letter into the inner pocket of his cloak, he began making his way back to the castle only to stop and take one last look over his shoulder. Dumbledore's pristine tomb sat calmly at the edge of the lake, a peaceful resting place where his soul could watch over the students. Harry didn't even realize he'd moved until he ran his hand over the top of the marble that encased his beloved Headmaster.

_Cold, so cold and hard,_ Harry thought to himself as his tears fell once more. _How can a man, one of the greatest wizards to ever walk this earth, one who was so full of life be so... so lifeless? Is this what awaits each of us at the end of our lives? Will any one even remember the man once history has washed and blurred the events of this day and age? Will we all be forgotten in the end?_

It took an effort to shake away the despondency that had washed over him, fighting the depression that sought a hold of his soul as he sagged against the memorial. He stayed that way until the sun sank below the horizon and then remained still as the stars appeared and the moon rose into the sky – its light painting the white marble of the tomb with soft blues and purples.

It was long after midnight when Harry finally stirred himself. His legs and back well and truly cramped from the long hours spent leaning against the stone in the damp night air. Stretching gingerly, he let his gaze wander around the empty grounds before pulling out his wand. He was on the verge of lighting the tip, so he could make his way back to the castle, when he caught sight of a bobbing light coming towards him in the night.

Keeping his wand out and ready, though lowered to his side where it would not be readily noticed, he watched as the light closed in. Twenty paces from where he stood, the bubble of brightness transformed into the figure of a young man carrying a lantern. Ten paces and he could make out the worn features of his younger self.

Harry tucked his wand into his pocket and waited silently, he knew there was nothing to fear this night – just as surely as he knew that the younger Harry had come out here looking for solace in the night.

"Professor!?" young Harry exclaimed, nearly dropping the lamp in shock when the edge of the light revealed older Harry standing wearily beside the grave. "I didn't think anyone would be here."

"Quite alright, Harry," Harry soothed himself. "Like you, I felt the need to spend one last night with a man who was like... like a grandfather to me."

The younger Harry nodded slowly, compassion and understanding filling his eyes – for once drowning out the suspicion that usually filled them when directed unknowingly at his older self. Harry smiled briefly to acknowledge the difference before moving aside to give his younger self room to approach the tomb. Young Harry set the lantern down where he stood and stepped up to the crypt, standing on the opposite side as the older Harry stood.

Harry watched as his younger self ran his hands over the stone in much the same way he had himself when he first approached Dumbledore's memorial earlier that afternoon. Harry struggled internally for a heartbeat as his memories threatened to overwhelm him at the moment. Remembered grief warring with fresh grief that was in away a part of the same grief he had felt the first time he lived through this moment. Confusion filled him as a wave of dizziness swept through him and for a second it seemed as if his thoughts were being pulled three different directions.

His knees buckled and he staggered roughly against the tomb as he fought off the weakness that filled his body. Then, just as quickly as it had come, the weakness passed and he was able to push himself back to his feet. The younger Harry frowned at him, a hand outstretched as if he had intended to offer his help – which Harry knew was exactly what he had done when he'd done just that the last time.

"I'm fine," Harry explained as he waved away his own concern, "just exhausted."

The young man across from him nodded hesitantly as he let his hand fall back to his side. The two of them stood there like that, both of them watching the unmoving stone between them as if avoiding looking at each other, for nearly an hour before Harry broke the silence.

"He, Voldemort, killed my parents," Harry whispered tenderly, old grief weighing his words as they filled the night with sound. "I wasn't even able to protect them then, not that I could have at that time. Even after I knew better, I couldn't help but blame myself for their deaths. If it had stopped with their deaths the pain might have faded with the years, but he never stopped killing those that were closest to me. He might not have held the wand that smothered their lives, but he ordered it done just the same. Two wise men, who I thought of as fathers; friends who had fought by my side, innocent lives crushed beneath his onslaught. He gave – gives – me new reasons to hate him with every breath he takes."

"You don't have to..." young Harry tried to interject.

"Yes, I do," Harry replied sternly before continuing. "You need to know what lies ahead, what that man – no monster – is capable of doing. He will try to crush you – both physically and mentally." Harry turned and faced the rippling surface of the lake as he took a deep, ragged breath, before going on in a softer voice.

"He will not spare you, or anyone else for that matter, in his effort to strike down all those who oppose him so that he can rule the world as he sees fit. The hardest blow was the day he murdered my fiancé. She stood no chance against him and he crushed her ruthlessly hoping it would break me. He nearly did."

Silence spread between them and young Harry watched him with a combination of comprehension, contrition, and a certain amount of remorse for his silent, and some not so silent, accusations throughout the previous ten months.

"I loved her more then life itself," Harry added tenderly after a few minutes had passed. "She was so beautiful, so full of life and love, and an innocence to rival any unicorn. She was also as mischievous as a pixie and twice as fiery as a salamander. I tried pushing her away – she wouldn't let me, you know – and I railed against the unfairness of it when I learned of her fate. It was her memory, more then anything else, which led me to accept a position here."

Harry turned back to face his younger self again and smiled tightly, the grief in him boiling just below the surface, his emotions just barely in control.

"I think I understand," his younger self replied cautiously.

"In time, you will understand far too well," Harry stated mournfully as he fingered the unread letter that he carried in his pocket still. He met his own eyes looking back at him in confusion and he added in a soft whisper; "May the heavens be merciful."

Knowing there was nothing else to say, Harry reached across the tomb and shook young Harry's hand before striding away from the crypt. Behind him his teenage self was swallowed up by the darkness, despite the soft glow of the lantern.

Upon reaching the castle entrance Harry took a moment to collect himself before opening the door and stepping inside. He nodded respectfully to Alastor Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt – both of whom were standing guard in the entrance hall – as he crossed the room and started up the stairs.

He felt as if a hole was being bored between his shoulder blades as he climbed and he suspected that Mad-Eye was watching him intently – either with his normal eye or the magical one – to insure he meant no harm to those residing within the castle. Harry smiled fondly at the thought and continued making his way up to his office, never once sneaking a look back to confirm what he already knew.

He was nearly to the third floor, where his office sat almost directly over his classroom and half under his personal quarters, when Professor McGonagall – now acting Headmistress McGonagall – fell into step beside him.

"I missed you at supper," McGonagall stated blandly as she matched him step for step.

"I was saying goodbye," Harry explained tiredly as they left the stairs and turned down the corridor, "and lost track of the hour."

"I was hoping I could speak with you," McGonagall countered softly, her face softening as they paused outside the locked office door.

"Of course," Harry accepted without hesitation, though he was beginning to feel his exhaustion catch up with him. He frowned in thought as he unlocked the door and gestured McGonagall to precede him, his mind trying to solve the puzzle of his earlier bout of dizziness and weakness.

"Is something wrong?" McGonagall inquired, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"Hmm? Er... uh... no, just tired, Minerva," Harry evaded as he used his wand to light the lamps so they could see.

"Should I come back tomorrow then? After you have rested?" McGonagall asked as she studied Harry with concern. "Poppy said you'd left the ward two days early, before you'd recovered properly."

"No, tonight is fine," Harry countered dryly.

"Let me send for Poppy," McGonagall insisted as she leaned forward to inspect Harry's face even more intently – perhaps taking in his disheveled clothes, sunken eyes with dark circles underneath, the paleness of his skin, and the tightness that pulled at his eyes and mouth. "You do not look well."

"Peace, Minerva, please I beg you," Harry begged as he led McGonagall to a pair of armchairs sitting beside his desk. "It is nothing that a good night sleep will not cure and a few minutes delay will not kill me. Madam Pomfrey on the other hand, is a tyrannical warden who would hold me hostage for months if given even half an opportunity."

McGonagall chuckled softly as she grinned back at him, worry still filled her eyes but she appeared to accept his explanation. "You sound like a bedraggled student during the aftermath of O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s."

"I feel like one right about now," Harry murmured as he returned her grin with a small one of his own. "Now, what was it you wished to discuss?"

McGonagall studied him intently a second time over the top of her glasses, wringing her hands a couple of times before folding them together. Harry waited patiently while she gathered her thoughts and settled her emotions – a fluttery feeling creeping into his stomach as he observed her stern facade melt into outright worry.

"The school is closing, the Governors have agreed," McGonagall announced weakly. "The students will be sent home tomorrow as planned."

"I know," Harry said simply.

"You know? How could you know?" McGonagall questioned, her expression puzzled.

"I, er..." Harry stalled as he groped for a reasonable answer. "It was the logical conclusion, what with everything that has happened."

"Yes, of course," McGonagall agreed as she picked up where she left off, "Whether we reopen in the fall has yet to be decided, but I fear the compromise to the school wards and the students safety has been too great."

"Hogwarts will reopen," Harry assured her, a wistful smile on his face. "Maybe not this coming fall, but when the danger has passed, students will fill these halls once more, stuffing their heads with knowledge and mischief."

"If only I could share your certainty."

"Faith and hope birth courage and determination even in the darkest of times," Harry shot back.

"You'd have made a fine Gryffindor," McGonagall praised, a small touch of her no-nonsense attitude coming back. "We could use a talented wizard such as yourself, your knowledge and your skills could mean the difference between success and failure in the battles that lie ahead."

Harry fidgeted in his seat, his thoughts drifting as McGonagall's voice droned on and a fanatical light flared in her eyes as she tried to tie him to a cause he'd been tied to since before the night he was born. In the past, it had always seemed as if he'd had no choice, no say in where his destiny might lie. Events beyond his control and a prophecy hanging over his head had pushed and pulled him along the road his life had taken for far too many years. And now McGonagall wanted him to be a part of it a second time.

To watch friends and loved ones fall once more. Dumbledore's death, twice in a lifetime, had nearly pushed him over the edge. How would he survive watching Ginny die a second time? Could he survive losing her once more? Even though she was no longer his? What of all the other brave men and women who were fated for death or worse?

"What do you say, James?" McGonagall asked at the end of her recital, her question dragging his attention back to the present moment.

"I will give it serious thought, Minerva," Harry evaded; his eyes focused on the floor between them as the fingers of his left hand unconsciously fingered the sealed letter that was tucked away inside his robes. "I have no definite plans for the future and there are obligations that need to be met, but I will give it full consideration."

"I understand," McGonagall replied as she rose to her feet and straightened her robes with a quick twist of her wrist. "Get some rest; we will discuss it further another time."

"Soon," Harry agreed as he escorted her to the door.

McGonagall bid him farewell and shook his hand firmly before ghosting off into the predawn light. Harry watched her leave with mixed emotions, his heart heavy as he contemplated the bleak future that was spreading rapidly out before him. Sighing wearily he closed and locked the office door and extinguished all of the lamps save one. Summoning that lamp with his wand, he climbed up one last set of stairs and entered his apartments while fishing the letter out of his pocket.

He barely noticed the empty fireplace as he walked through the outer room into the bedroom. Didn't even hear Aries hoot a greeting as he sat down on the bed and gently banished the lamp to the desk that sat in the far corner and lit several others around the room. He failed to see the light reflecting off of a pair of eyes watching him from beside the wardrobe as he broke the seal on the envelope and pulled out a thick sheaf of parchment.

_James,_

_Your task here is finished and it is past time for you to  
leave._

Harry stopped reading and allowed his body to fall backwards so that he lay down on the bed, his eyes unfocused and half closed as his exhaustion began bearing down on him. Shaking his head, he tried to clear his mind enough concentrate without much success. Letting his eyes slide shut, he brought a hand up and pressed it over both eyelids and let the other one fall to his side as he muttered incoherently under his breath.

Raising the letter he dropped his hand away from his face and glared at the familiar handwriting without reading the words. His eyes automatically found the signature at the end and, somehow, he was not really surprised to find the familiar initials scrawled hastily across the bottom of the page. Knowing he was only putting off the inevitable, he sat up and began reading the note from the beginning a second time.

_James,_

_Your task here is finished and it is past time for you to  
leave. Any delay on your part will only undermine all  
that we sought to accomplish here._

_Arrangements have been made for both you and all of  
the belongings you have acquired during your term as  
Professor Harrison._

_Further instructions will be given to you once you have  
reached your destination. You will find your overnight  
bag, packed with all of your personal effects, safely  
ensconced in the tunnel beyond the One-Eyed witch on  
the third floor._

_PJH~HJP_

Hopping to his feet, Harry hurried over to his wardrobe and yanked the door open to quickly scan through the contents. His heart sank as he noted each item that was missing; from his overnight bag to the robe he'd been wearing the night he'd started out on this fool assignment. From the protective case he kept Ginny's old wand in to his Firebolt and the sneak-o-scope that Ron had given to him for his thirteenth birthday. All that remained were the two extra sets of burgundy robes that he had purchased during the year, a worn pair of slippers, and a few empty hangers.

Biting back a curse, he hurried into the bathroom and found that it too had been cleared of his personal effects. Even more so then the wardrobe had been. Swallowing his anger and frustration was difficult as he stalked back into the bedroom, but even that slight control fled out the door when his eyes fell on the old man, the same one who'd spoken to him at the funeral, standing in the middle of the room.

"It is past time for you to be gone," the old man announced solemnly before Harry could so much as open his mouth.

"How did you get in here?" Harry demanded harshly. His eyes cutting to the door and back as he quickly searched the room for others. The fingers on his right hand twitching anxiously, as if they intended to reach for his wand without conscious thought.

"Calm yourself boy," the man instructed, "I have been waiting for nearly two hours for you to return."

"Why?"

"To see you safely out of Hogwarts," he answered. "You must hurry, time is growing short."

"Why rush...?" Harry began to ask, only to cut off before he finished the question as a second wave of dizziness swept through him. This time his stomach rebelled as well, nearly dropping him to his knees as the queasiness rolled and swelled with each gasping breath he took.

"Too many!" the old man gasped as he too clasped his head in his hands and swayed on his feet. "We have to go now!"

Harry felt callused hands latch onto his arm and the two men staggered into each other at the same time as a familiar voice called out from the sitting room.

"Professor Harrison?"

"Now!" the man hissed while thrusting one end of a candle holder into Harry's hand.

Both of them felt the tugging pull as the portkey activated, sucking them out of Harry's room and dumping them onto the floor of a dark tunnel. Harry pushed away from the old man and promptly emptied his stomach as the dizziness faded slowly, reluctantly away. After a few minutes, he was able to climb shakily to his feet with a small groan as he cradled his head with one hand and wiped his mouth with the other.

When he felt well enough to take in his surroundings, he was surprised to see the familiar dirt and stone walls that formed the tunnel sides and the long ramp that led up to the one-eyed witch that guarded the entrance to the tunnel. Tucked beside the ramp were his overnight bag and two lanterns.

"This is where I leave you," the old man stated calmly as he picked up one of the lamps and used his wand to light both of the lanterns. He studied Harry for a full minute before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a lumpy package wrapped with crinkle yellow parchment that he held out to him.

"What is this?" Harry asked warily as he gingerly accepted the small package.

The old man just smiled though as he began walking away from the ramp entrance, leaving a puzzled Harry behind. Harry watched his back until the man was swallowed by the darkness before turning his attention to the bundle in his hands. Gingerly he unwrapped the parchment and frowned down at the pair of familiar glittering timeturners that nestled together on top of yet another sealed envelope.

Lifting them out carefully, he draped them over his head before turning his attention to the letter. A sigh escaped his lips and he laughed softly. A mirthless laugh that sounded painful as it echoed inside the dimly lit tunnel.

Gathering up his overnight bag and the remaining lantern, he gave the smaller timeturner several quick twists and watched the tunnel blur around him. When the motion without movement stopped, he trotted away from the ramp still laughing silently as tears poured down his face.

It didn't take much time to traverse the tunnel, and he soon found himself climbing up the small ladder that led into the cellars of Honeydukes. Pausing to listen for footsteps, he tucked the timeturners under his robes before hurrying up the stairs that led into the shop. Unsurprisingly the store was empty and locked – its owners and clerks up at the castle attending Dumbledore's funeral.

Feeling only slightly dizzy, Harry used his wand to activate the portkey he held in his hand, the letter had informed him the lamp he'd used had been spelled to take him someplace safe, and waited for the sharp tug around his middle while he watched the castle through the windows. When it came, he closed his eyes and held tight to his belongings as he was sucked through space and dropped unceremoniously onto the porch of an old run down cabin out in the middle of a peaceful forest. Climbing to his feet once more, he opened the door and stepped inside – ready to begin his next adventure even as he silently cursed fate for leading him further away from the life he'd made for himself back in the future.

* * *

**THE END**

* * *

**AN:** _I'd like to thank all my readers and reviewers for sticking with me. There is a sequel to this story in the works, but I won't start posting it here until I have finished writing and editing it. Info on the sequel will be added to my profile sometime soon. _


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